Winds of Change
by Kary Starr
Summary: After the Great War, things have changed. Hermione learns to deal with what life is really about, and how to deal it—realizing that not everything can be handled on her own.
1. White

Title: Winds of Change

Author: Kary Starr

Ship: Harry/Hermione

Rating: PG-13/R

Summary: After the Great War, things have changed.  Hermione learns to deal with what life is really about, and how to deal it—realizing that not everything can be handled on her own.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Humour

Story Canon: 1-5

AN: Look, I'm back!  "The bitch is back and she's gonna be rich…do dah, do dah, the bitch is back!"  I finally have a story here, about Harry and Hermione, my new favourite ship.  I just…don't…like the Ron/Hermione ship much, never did, like the Harry/Ginny ship, nope, not for me.  Though most of my other stories will allude to it, of course.  _Black Prospects puts Hermione with Ron; __Without Words puts Hermione with Draco; and one of my other…things…to read is Hermione and Snape.  So Hermione is, virtually, the Harry Potter "string-a-long," because she is the only girl to be old enough to pair with everyone, Ginny coming in at a close second.  Now there's Luna Lovegood, whom I think, is a lot like me.  So now she can "hang wit" Ron.  I like Ron/Luna.  I like Hermione/Harry.  And that is my editorial._

This is a different story, and then, it isn't.  Just read it.  And review.  Please.  Please.  Please.

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**Chapter One: White**

* * *

The cold December wind blew through Hermione Granger's curly brown hair and sent chills down her spine.  Shivering slightly, she crossed her arms and hunched over, trying to deflect the bitter wintry gusts.

As tired as she was, the chilly air was keeping her numbly awake.  Hermione had spent a great deal of time upstairs last night studying and reading all her notes, before the test she was going to take this afternoon.  Perhaps, in afterthought, Hermione should have organized her time better that week.  But time had passed so quickly and without her even realizing it, the week had come and gone; now she was extremely fatigued.  Lucky for her, she was going to see something that was sure to wake her up.

Or should Hermione say two somethings—her best friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, whose abundant energy was enough to liven anything, even the dead, the point she was above, but just.  Both were at Hagrid's hut, at the edge of Hogwarts' ground and the Forbidden Forest, helping Hagrid with a new specimen Hagrid had bred specially for the Ministry—surprising, of course, since the Ministry had been broken up and disintegrated for the last year and a half.  The havoc after the Great War—

Hermione paused in her tracks.  Shaking her head of the horror memories the Great War brought up, those that made her scream in her sleep, that had left Harry imprisoned in his own mind for months, not to mention St. Mungo's for weeks afterward...that had brought Ron to his knees before the Great Lord, locked within the Imperious Curse...and Dumbledore's violent murder, before her eyes, because of she and Harry would not reveal the essential information of Snape's whereabouts, and she, only to stand on the sidelines—

Her mittened hands came to her face, as tears flowed down her cheeks.  _No, no, you mustn't think of this—you're a Gryffindor—you're stronger than this.  We're all okay.  Voldemort is gone.  Harry was the one prophesied to live in return for Voldemort's life...he's alive...and so is Ron...Ginny, Neville and Luna...they're all alive..._

But at a great price.  So many people died, wizards and Muggles alike.  And she was there in the middle of it all..._Get a hold of yourself.  What would Ron and Harry think to see you walk in there, crying?_

Though the War had left scars on the three teens, the fact that the three of them, and the rest of the Loyal Army—consisting much of the DA of their fifth year, the young wizards who chose to fight on Dumbledore's side, the Good Side—the fact that they all stood together, those that did not die or disappear, helped to keep those who saw much more than they could handle from going insane with grief.  Especially those like Neville Longbottom, a round-faced Gryffindor with a kind heart and extraordinary abilities in battle, but who had too pure a mind for the horror of war.

Hermione stood still and took deep breaths.  That was all behind her.  What good could it—would it—to dwell on this subject?  She was just emotional because she was tired.  Though she never would tell anyone what had gone through her mind—the thoughts were unspeakable, to say the least—if she walked in crying, they would make a fuss.  Then they would ask what was wrong.  Hermione had been very careful—almost too careful, she thought, sounding just convincing enough in their continued discussions—to not say anything to upset anyone, though Harry came close to finding out many times.  She wished she could just tell what was boiling inside of her, but to make them worry—after defending her position many times—_sure_ was quite all right, no need to make a commotion—would be a weak definition of character.  She needed to be strong, for all of them.

After breathing out loudly and patting under her eyes with snow to reduce the swelling of tears (Hermione had become rather familiar with the many ways to cover tears, right down to going out and getting Muggle colour contacts that matched her normal eye colour perfectly (_"My eyes are just too dry and are watering over, Harry, don't worry—it's not like I'm crying, you know..."_).  It covered very well.).  Barking mad, was she?  Absolutely.

She started to walk again, breathing deep with each step.  That was her way to calm down, to make sure she looked okay, to make sure that everything was covered up.  Hermione approached the door apprehensively.  Knocking twice, the door opened to Harry, red-cheeked and out of breath.

"We just got in ourselves," he explained needlessly, and Hermione nodded.  Stepping aside, Harry allowed Hermione to come in and take a seat in one of the most ostentatious chairs Hagrid had managed to purchase last month to make his hut, in his words, "more 'omey."  Hermione suspected that, considering the chair is French made (with pastel-like coloured fabric in plaid fashion), Hagrid's girlfriend Madame Maxime might have had a hand in the choosing.  The chair was large and took up almost half of the hut itself.

"So, how's the...erm, what do you call those things again?" Hermione asked, taking off her heavy black cloak and setting it to her side.  Her black-shoed feet swung absentmindedly off the side of the chair, though she was nearly five feet, seven inches tall.

"Top secret," Harry replied, waving a disapproving finger at her.  "Can't tell you about those monsters—no offense to Hagrid," he added, disdainfully, "—and what those 'monsters' do, though I'm pretty sure I can come to the safe conclusion that like the Blasted End Skrewts, they should all be stamped out.  I haven't any idea what use for them the three of us can come up with."  Harry and Ron, both in N.E.W.T. Care of Magical Creatures, took on this project as one of the thesis requirements to pass with N.E.W.T. recognition.  Hermione, on the other hand, did not care for killing herself in her own free time and chose to do a double thesis project, combining both N.E.W.T. Advanced Charms and Transfiguration.

Hermione shrugged.  "You chose this, Harry."  She smiled mischievously.  "Not so much fun to brag about anymore?"

"Shut it, you," Harry said, watching Hermione eye a new wound he had stumbled himself on, a cut across his collarbone.  She only shook her head and nodded her head at him.

"Want me to take a look at that?" Hermione asked, pointing at the gash.  "Doesn't look too good."

"Better than what Ron has," Harry replied quickly, turning away.  "Hagrid's out there mopping him up."

Hermione nodded knowingly.  "How is he doing, anyway?" She stood and walked over to the overly large sink, taking a towel out of the drawer and running the hot water tap, putting soap onto the cloth and rubbing it in.  Harry replied as she worked her way to the gauze/First Aid medical kit, hanging on the wall next to an old dragon cage.

"He's doing all right—I don't think he has any of Charlie's talents, though.  Hagrid's a good friend, but he's making it harder and harder everyday to stick with this.  Sometimes..."

Hermione walked over to him, set the cleaning materials on the table, and sighed.  "I told you that a thesis with the Care of Magical Creatures would be difficult.  No one has done it since Charlie, and now you know why."

Harry shook his head as Hermione signaled for him to remove his thick turtleneck and shirt.  "I should have done Transfiguration.  At least I'm _decent in that.  Or Defense Against the Dark Arts," he added wistfully.  "Damn Snape."_

She clicked her tongue, understanding his upset.  Since many of the qualified teachers over the years had started to dwindle with time, and the fact that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position really _was haunted, no one would take up the job.  And since, on the request of the new Minister Arthur Weasley when the Ministry was rebuilt, the Ministry can no longer interfere it's behalf in Hogwarts' business.  Left with no other choice, the dreaded, deranged and yes, quite frankly evil Professor Snape, now taught two classes—Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Hermione thankfully thought that it was lucky the Potions Master did not secure the Headmaster position as well, but instead it fell to Gryffindor's Head of House and previous Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, also the Transfiguration teacher._

"Transfiguration is harder than you think, Harry," she said, offering a little bit of advice in the midst of his hellish thoughts.  She lifted the towel to the cut, which was bleeding freely.  Hermione pressed the warm cloth onto his shoulder, holding him still with the other hand.  As she was rubbing the wound, her heart was pounding in her ears.  She resisted staring at Harry's build—being a Seeker, he had mastered a swimmer's body, sleek and well defined without being macho-ly buff.

_Stop, stop, stop,_ she thought.  Hermione moved the cloth away, cleaning away the soap, as Harry sat there, watching her appreciatively.  She felt red creeping into her cheeks.  _Oh cut it out, she thought stubbornly.  _We've already determined this man to be unattainable, think of the Final ___Battle__._

_Anyway, think of conversation—quick—_

"Doesn't this hurt you?" she asked, her voice masking causality like a wet rag.

"Nah, I've had worse," he replied, grinning.  Hermione shook her head, smiling, and pulling out her wand, she muttered some words to help heal the wound.  It was too deep to heal completely, and she covered the rest of it with gauze.

"That should be better," she said nonchalantly, leaning back from his very, very sexy body.  _Cut it out, this is _Harry_, your best friend...and he's practically engaged to Cho Chang anyway..._

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, as she helped him to gingerly put his shirt back on, brushing over his soft skin.  The gash may have been partially healed, but it still smarted, and Hermione noticed Harry trying not to wince.

She took a deep breath, and exhaled.  "Anytime.  What's a future Healer to do?"

He ran his hand through his thick, messy black hair, which had tamed some growing up.  He was looking out the window, seeing Ron, who was quite green, lumped on Hagrid's shoulder, coming in from the cold.  Hermione, however, did not notice this, as she was stuck midway putting things away and watching Harry, finding herself doing nothing more than stare at him.

She was crazy to have these feelings—Hermione knew that she was attracted to Harry, sure, but there was nothing she could do about it.  The years agreed with him—his gorgeous build, those dazzling emerald eyes, peering back through your soul, and masked behind small-rimmed glasses.  He was a tall, dark-haired, and very handsome boy, she had realized before, and his smile made her knees melt.  But there was just one little, itty-bitty thing standing in her way.

Reality.

So Hermione, like any normal girl with an out-of-bounds crush, suppressed her feelings.  And it worked, mostly, especially over the summer.  With the LA, she hardly saw any of Harry—he was always with Dumbledore or Moody or Tonks or Lupin, who have all been killed in the Great War, protecting Harry—and was reverted to other "projects" and research, something she was familiar with and very talented doing.

The last couple of months have been hard, being back at school, feeling an emptiness inside that no one could fill, feeling as if there were holes in her heart where all whom she had come to care for and love had disappeared.  Though without Harry or Ron, she would have never recovered from the shock of it all—finding out Dumbledore had indeed, died, right before her and Harry, and he, filled of rage and hatred, blasted Voldemort to smithereens—and they too, without her, would have been empty.  It was so hard, so very hard, to go about normally.  They had their lives ahead of them, and they had to concentrate...this was the year that, normally, would either make or break them all.

But most of the emptiness, taken in part from all the deaths she had witnessed, including her own parents and that of many of her classmates...not to mention the adults she held in high esteem...was nothing compared to what she felt around Harry.  Hermione knew it was selfish, but she was there...she was there when Dumbledore died, she watched Harry transform into something much more, something full of power that was all channeled into ending Death's reign...and she realized then and there, watching him dodge the curse that had killed so many people—her parents, his parents...she realized that she loved him.  And it pained her beyond recognition to see him in the line of death.  To see the green shots of light graze his hair, to see him leap to unknown boundaries...to protect them all....

And when Harry won, slumped down on the ground, she was not the first to reach him.  Cho Chang was.  The only girl Harry had any feelings for, certainly expressed their fifth year...she also, being apart of LA, had been on the sidelines, helping Harry win the Final Battle.  But, as they embraced in the destruction of life, the death of Evil, Hermione knew in her heart the she was not the one for him.

It hurt more than anything.  Her heart had welled up fifty times her normal size until she felt like she would burst from grief.  And it took her great pains to never utter this to a soul.

The door burst open and Ron slumped inside, still green as ever.  "We have to kill those...those...moth—" Ron murmured, before dry heaving.  Harry laughed at him.

"You thought they were cool two months ago," he said, helping Ron inside.  "And watch your mouth, Hagrid's here."

Hermione cocked her head sideways.  Since when did Ron pick up such street slang and use it so casually?  Inwardly, she laughed.  Ron had always used dirty language.

"Perhaps I can help," Hermione offered.  "What happened?"

"Those things poisoned me, that's what happened!" Ron said suddenly, turning very green, then ducked outside Hagrid's hut to vomit.

"Again?" Hermione said disdainfully.  "Ron, they're gonna kill you before you figure out what to do with them..."

"It'll go away in an 'our, don'cha worry, Ron," Hagrid said, clapping him on the back rather roughly.  "I 'ad that 'appen to me once, befor', when you two weren' 'ere an' all, and I'm all fixed up, ain't I?"

Harry turned to Hermione and muttered, "Not quite so sure."  She laughed.

"Well, I'm sure there's something I can give you to stop the vomiting," she said, and finished putting away Harry's medical supplies.  "Where's that Elixir that I had made for the last time someone was poisoned by those...what are they again?"

"No, Hermione, we won't tell you, so give it up," Ron said irritably, turning a violent shade of sick.  "Just...just give me that Elixir before I vomit my insides out."

"All right, all right," she muttered at him, opening up the last cabinet and seeing the flask of red liquid.  "I'm pouring you a cup, hold on a second..." She pulled out a glass and dumped the remaining drink into the cup.  "I have to make more of this," she said, mostly to herself, as a mental note.  "Don't let me forget."

"I won't, believe you me," Ron said eagerly, taking the medicine and downing it, the green fading from his face.  "Ahh, much better.  I feel like I can...almost...well, no, I don't want to eat, but I feel a lot better."

"Good, I'm glad," Harry said.  He moved toward the door and helped Ron to sit.  "You need to be cleaned up, but...ugh, Ron, turn your head the other way, I don't want to be puked on."

"Aw, why would I do that, mate?" Ron grinned.  "Nothing like sharing the love."

Hermione poked her head out of the kitchen, after setting the now clean flask in the drying bin.  "That's disgusting, Ron."

Ron stood defiantly.  "I think I'll get cleaned up then, I'm obviously not appreciated," he said sadly, mockingly moping into the bathroom where the sound of rushing water was heard.  Hermione came out of the kitchen, and sat down near Harry.

"How in the world did I put up with that...I don't think they have a name yet...that _thing for the last seven years?" Harry said incredulously._

"Hey, I heard that!" Ron replied, aghast, coming out of the bathroom rubbing his face with a towel.  He ran it through his thick red hair and set it up on his shoulder.  "Feeling much better, thank you for asking," he said pointedly.

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione replied in a higher voice, "Darling, dear, are you going to live?  I can't possibly survive without you!"  She held her hand over her heart, and pretended to faint.

"That's more like it!" Ron answered triumphantly, watching as Hermione opened one eye bleakly and sat up straight.

"So long as you feel better," Harry said, shaking his head at his not-so-gangly best friend.

Hagrid came in after bustling about the kitchen with four tankards of butterbeer, grinning madly under his untamed mass of black hair that was his beard.  "I got some o' this at 'ogsmeade," he said, setting them down on the table between the obnoxious couch and the green oversized chair Ron had sat down in, "an' I figured, since you all seemed a lil' down lately and all, that you might need a pick-me-up—an' since none o' you can drink," he continued, eyeing Ron wearily—he'd tried to pass himself off one time last year, before the Great War, as a legal drinker at the bar and nearly succeeded.  "Since none o' you can drink," he repeated, "this is the next bes' thing."

Hermione's attention snapped away from Harry.  "Thank you so much, Hagrid," Hermione said, feinting happiness, and took a glass, to which Harry and Ron followed suit.  _Oh God, Harry, she thought, __why do you have to be so close yet so unattainable?  This is the last year I will see you like this, before we begin our real lives.  And here I sit, so far away, not being able to do anything about it._

She pinched her leg through her blue tights, below her long navy skirt.  _Stop this or you'll cry.  Be strong.  You can't—_CAN'T_—let anyone know._

"—and he's being so awful, Hagrid.  I can't stand Defense Against the Dark Arts class anymore.  It's driving me nuts," Ron was saying when Hermione returned her attention which had, once again drifted away.

"Too late," she muttered, taking a swig of butterbeer and smiling sweetly.  She didn't even need to be included in the situation to know what Ron was whining about.  Hermione didn't like Snape anymore than he did, but she realized that holding a grudge would not get them to pass.  Didn't he get that?  Or was Potions an ignorant reminder?

She glanced about the small hut, littered in old cages, the familiar pink umbrella, the crackling fireplace—and realized that she had her Transfiguration essay left to do before class tomorrow.  Hermione suspected that neither of the two boys here finished the essay either.

"Um, Hagrid," she started, setting down the half-empty tankard, "I'll see you tomorrow for tea.  I just remembered—I have to finish my Transfiguration essay..."

"Come on Hermione, lighten up," Harry said, resting his hand on her knee friendly-like.  Hermione could feel the heat rise up in her cheeks.  _You bastard, get your hand off my knee before I burn the house with my cheeks!  "You have all afternoon—it's only ten o'clock."_

Hermione set her own hand on his and, reluctantly, removed it.  "I have an Advanced Arithmancy exam this afternoon, and as much as you _love to procrastinate, I do not.  I'm going to walk back and do what I need to do—and that would be my essay."  She stood, entered the kitchen, and set the glass down.  Glancing up, she noticed that the snow had started to pick up—quite a bit._

Harry walked in behind her.  "Why do you always rush out when we're all finally sitting together, Hermione?" he said, setting his own empty glass in the sink.  Their conversation was out of the way, as she could hear Ron adamantly bitch out Professor Snape's latest unfairness.

"I don't _always walk out," she replied.  "I'm always with you two."_

He looked at her intently.  Hermione wished he wouldn't.

"You seem more reserved lately, Hermione," he said.  "Ever since...ever since the War.  I know that you have all the rights in the world—" Harry said quickly, when she opened her mouth, "but for all we tell you and ask advice, the only person who is giving advice won't ask for it.  You know what I mean?"

_Sure I do.  It has something to do with the fact that you and I, for all I hope, cannot be, so stop pestering me about it.  I just want to be left alone, I want you to stop tinkering with my feelings, I want to go back to how it was before—no love, just pure, simple friendship, where you and I could sit quietly in a room and talk without me wanting to reach out and kiss every bit of your face..._

Hermione realized that she was quiet too long, and Harry's face fell.  "Well, whenever you want to talk, I'm always ready to listen, Hermione," he said, taking her hand and kissing her softly on the cheek.  She was stunned for a second, as Harry released her, and then she smiled assuredly.

"I'm fine, Harry," Hermione said.  "I just have a lot going on—it's N.E.W.T. year, and you understand I'm under a lot of pressure don't you?"

He grinned.  "I know you're taking every Advanced seventh year course offered."

"See?  That's why I must away to my homework," she said pointedly, and moved out of the kitchen, grabbing her cloak.  "Talk to you boys when you get back."

"Bye, Hermione," Ron said, waving at her from the engulfed chair.  "Take care, it's snowing like a bitch."

Harry, leaning on the doorway of the small cookery, scoffed at Ron's remark.  "Ron!" he said, tsking at Ron, and grinning madly at Hermione putting on her cloak.  "Talk to you in a bit."

"Bye, you two.  Thank you, Hagrid," she said, opening the door and walking out into the bitter cold snow-filled wind.  Everything was white....

Outside looked so new; it seemed complete, presumably wonderful.

As Hermione made tracks in the snow back to the castle, she realized that not everything could be the way it used to be.  The wind, beating at her expose face, made her feel alone and forlorn.  And she supposed that's how she's set herself up.  Hermione felt devastated—she hated keeping something so big from everyone so important to her.  Her feelings for Harry kept her at a distance, their friendship like a string that was used to teasingly pull her in and release her back out.

And deep in her heart, she knew that this is how it was meant to be.  

It wasn't fair.


	2. Blue

Title: Winds of Change

Author: Kary Starr

Ship: Harry/Hermione

Rating: PG-13/R

Summary: After the Great War, things have changed.  Hermione learns to deal with what life is really about, and how to deal it—realizing that not everything can be handled on her own.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Humour

Story Canon: 1-5

  
  


AN: Hey, I'm back…again…I do have three chapters for you sorry people who feel the need to read the shit I write.  Note to all of you who do not know me: Alan Rickman is GOD.  Anything else is just pretendin'.  I'm at school right now, isn't that weird?  It's summer.  But I got an A.  I GOT AN A!  In Meteorology 100!  Shocking, ain't it?  And right now, if you like Parvati with some sort of sick perversion, or just like her because she's the Divination Drama Queen, then you'd better kip out.  I don't like her much at all.  She's a wispy, wispy person.

And can someone please explain to my mother, who obviously doesn't not understand ANYTHING, that Aunt Petunia cannot be a Squib.

And that is all I can say.  Enjoy!  Review!  Love you!

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**Chapter Two: Blue**

* * *

Hermione had just finished the last word to her essay when Harry and Ron bounded into the Gryffindor Common Room, smiling and making a lot of noise.  After blowing the last word carefully dry, she set her white quill down and rolled the parchment, looking up.

"How was the storm?" Hermione asked, noticing that their hair was damp from the inch of melting snow atop their heads.

"Never saw a blizzard like it!" Ron exclaimed.  "It was great fun, Harry and I caught a snowball fight before McGonagall shooed us inside because of the weather."

Her eyes gazed at the window behind her, from which she was borrowing the light.  The clear glass revealed nothing but pure white, nothing to see for any distance.  "Well, do you blame her?"

"No," Harry said, rubbing his hair of the wetness.  "You made it back all right, then?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow.  "Yeah, don't see anything missing do you?" she asked, quizzically.

Ron glanced at Harry, curious at him, too.  "Nevermind, Hermione," he muttered, before unbuckling the silver clasp at the base of his heavy black turtleneck, releasing his own cloak.  "I'm going to get warmed up."

"Me, too," Ron said, shivering slightly.  "Kip us some hot cocoa, will you, Hermione?"

"Oh, sure, want me to do the laundry, too?" she asked sarcastically, standing and closing the inkbottle.

"Actually..." Ron started, then started to laugh.

"I'll get some hot chocolate for you," Hermione said, smiling at him, before turning her attention to placing the parchment in her bag along with her Transfiguration book.

"Thank you," he said, walking up the boys' staircase.  Harry hung behind, and it wasn't until Hermione had finished packing her bag that she noticed he was still there.

"Something you need, Harry?" she asked, setting her bag on the stone stairs up to the girls' dormitory, which was to the left of its identical pair.  Standing straight, she pulled nervously at the ends of her white ribbed turtleneck, her fingers brushing against her navy skirt.  _Play it cool, Ace._

"I'm still worried about you, Hermione," Harry said, staring at her.  Hermione turned her head away, and tried, for the millionth time, to act casual when they were alone.  Easier said than done.

"Don't, Harry," she said.  "Go get changed—I'll get your hot chocolate."

Harry frowned slightly.  "Don't bother getting me one," he said on his way upstairs.  "I'm going to meet Cho is five minutes, anyway."

Lucky for her, Harry did not see Hermione stick out her tongue and roll her eyes.  _Little Miss Perfect Cho, with her dainty figure and perky nose, with long, sleek black hair and nice eyes.  Give me a bloody break.  Why does she have to come here on the weekends?  Isn't there anything better she can do?  What exactly is this "Ministry" job, anyway?  _Cho, who had gotten a job through the Ministry after the war ended, would on occasion come to Hogwarts and spend the weekends there, mostly hanging all over Harry.

"Right then," she replied coolly and walked out of the Common Room, down to the kitchens.  She tickled the pear and asked kindly, though ever since her fourth year didn't appreciate the slavery of their species, a house elf to give her two cups of hot cocoa and some éclairs, knowing Ron would be upset if she didn't bring any back.

Carrying the tray carefully, she told the Fat Lady the password—"Magellan"—and entered, just as Harry was about to walked out.

"Talk to you later, Hermione," he said, walking quickly by.

She stopped, and turned to him.  "Yeah, talk to you later," she echoed dully.  Harry didn't even notice, he just continued to move at a fast pace.  Sighing irritably, she walked inside the red and gold decorated Common Room and set the tray on the table before the fire.  Hermione plopped out down the maroon couch and looked around.

Hermione always liked how warm and cozy the Common Room felt, despite how angry or sad she was.  It was more of a home than even her own house.  She loved how the banners of red and gold hung aesthetically on the blue stone, with tapestries and pictures attempting to decorate the rest of the bare space.  Mahogany desks and chairs littered the walls and in between; some occupied, others not.  Right now, there were a couple first years playing Exploding Snaps at the table at the other end of the Common Room.  Maroon fabric couches and chairs, always plush and warm, were settled into circles around the large basement-like area.  Overhead, in the middle, two stone bridges linking dorms from older students to younger students, one for both girls and boys, were at opposite ends.  Hermione, taking a deep breath, tried to steady herself before Ron showed.  He, besides Harry, was the only one she had to be especially careful around—Hermione had a tendency to admit things and slip more often than she liked.

She heard Ron's voice and pulled her head from its resting place at the back of the couch, to see him kiss Parvati on the lips before breaking and looking over at her.  He grinned and, taking her by the hand, led Parvati over to where Hermione was sitting.

Hermione tried to make conversation as they took the seats next to her.  "Since when is...this?"

"Since this afternoon's snowball fight," Parvati said, matter-of-factly, taking Hermione's mug of hot chocolate.  Hermione sighed inwardly, wanting to hit someone very hard, not caring whom it was.  "It was so romantic, we just walked away and had our own little private conversation, and then one of the Ravenclaws...Loony, perhaps?...pushed me into Ron.  Of course, I always thought she liked him, myself, but she certainly helped the kissing along."

Hermione remained silent.  She knew that Luna Lovegood, the girl Parvati had referred to, was desperately in love with Ron, as much as she was in love with Harry, though Luna did not know that.  Hermione figured that Luna had only pushed Parvati into Ron to hit Parvati, but far be it from her to announce to that slut that she wasn't intentionally "helping the kissing along."

_Poor Luna,_ Hermione thought, standing.  "Well, gotta run, enjoy the chocolate, Ron," she said, starting to walk away.

"Thanks," he replied, his mouth full of éclair.  She shook her head.  Truly, the emotional range of a teaspoon.  _Probably the one Parvati's pulling out of her mouth after drinking _MY _cocoa.  _

_Anyway, I wonder how Luna is faring._

* * *

Hermione had wandered into the library, and walked through to the back of the room.  There, sitting, was Cho and Harry, their hands entwined, with Ginny and Luna sitting next to them.  Luna, slightly eccentric but usually cheerful, had her head down in her arms, her shoulders shaking from crying.  No one had caught her yet, so she hid behind the bookcase and listened in for a second.

"Luna, darling," Ginny was saying, putting her hand on the longhaired girl's shoulder, "I think Ron is just bewitched by Parvati's reputation.  I mean, it's not like she's clean, right?"

"I just...don't think...that this is fair!  I mean, I've been so nice to him, and everything, and then I thought today I would get my chance, when Ron came over, but then...Parvati...scooped him up...and I just couldn't take it...seeing them...seeing him...with _her...so I rushed past them, bumping into her on accident, and then...oh, God, she certainly seized the opportunity!" she cried, her muffled voice bawling into her black sweater._

_Oh, my goodness, Luna..._ Hermione thought, remembering back to her own feelings about Harry and Cho's relationship.  It was murder, anguish, and hell, especially that determining moment stupid Cho made her move first.

Hermione took a deep breath.  Though she knew it was harder—harder and harder each time—to see Cho and Harry, giving each other looks of love and occasionally kisses, she had to be there for Luna.  Luna was as close like a sister as Ginny ever was, though Hermione's secrets were not for sale for friendships.

She walked from behind the bookshelf and sat down next to the dirty-blonde haired girl.  "Luna, I just heard what happened—or rather, unpleasantly saw," she said gently, putting a hand on Luna's.  "Ron's a dolt, I really thought for sure that he was going to ask you out soon."

"So did I," Harry spoke, looking at Hermione.  "He always said really nice things about you, Luna, and the only other time he did that was when he..." Harry paused, casting his eyes away.  "Um, when he liked someone else."

Luna's head lifted from her arms.  "I've been so silly, Hermione," she said, her voice breaking.

"Luna, you're not silly," Hermione said quickly, giving her a hug.  "Ron's being silly."

Luna wiped her pale eyes with the back of her hand.  "Thank you, everyone," she said, trying to smile.  "Please don't mention this to Ron, or anyone else.  Ever," Luna added dangerously.

"No, of course not," Harry replied, standing with Cho.  "I'm glad you feel better."

"Take care, Luna darling," said Cho, squeezing her hand.  "I'll talk to you later, all right?"

Luna nodded.  They departed and Hermione, determined not to watch them, focused on Ginny, who was absent-mindedly braiding her fiery red hair.  "Were you two just here when they showed up?" Hermione asked tentatively, trying not to sound too accusative.

"Yeah, Cho heard from Padma that Parvati, her twin sister, had scored another tally in the Man Department with the Gryffindor Keeper.  Cho knew that we'd be in the library all afternoon, we've got our project to work on—" Ginny motioned to the stack of books on the chair next to her and on the floor, which had been cleared off the empty table.  "—and then Cho met up with us, saying that she always thought Ron liked her, and Harry sort of confirmed it, but...as you can see..."

"Yeah," Hermione said, her voice fading.  "Parvati."

Luna's enormous eyes welled.  Hermione smiled assuredly.  "Ron'll come to his senses, I bet Harry will talk to him—not about you," she said quickly, noticing Luna's murderous look, "but about Parvati and her reputation.  Bet you millions that Mrs. Weasley would pull Ron out of Hogwarts before she'd let him date someone like Parvati...plus what she'd do to him.  This is seventh year.  Ron's got no time to fool around with someone who taking wispy courses like..._Divination_," Hermione added for emphasis.  "Stupid courses, really."

Luna smiled a little bit, the mistiness coming back into her aura.  "Ahh, but if she could see into the future, suppose she saw me take her new boyfriend?"

"Suppose she'd even care?"

"Let's just suppose that she uses that ESP to predict the next STD!"  All three girls laughed at Ginny's comment, and for a moment, life was back to the way it used to be.

* * *

Hermione walked alone back to the Common Room later the evening.  She kipped out for her Friday exam, was gone for an hour, finished it, and returned to the library to finish helping Luna and Ginny work frantically on their project.  She helped them to find books and references that would be of use to them, and afterward, she felt exhausted, deciding to return to the dorm to read and rest a bit, maybe take a warm bath.  What better way to wind down such a sad day?

She walked into an empty Common Room—it was only ten o'clock, but Hermione did not need to worry about slipping curfew since in a few short days, she would become Hogwarts' Head Girl.  Hermione had not thought about that all week; on Wednesday next, both she and whoever was chosen as Head Boy would be announced at dinner.  McGonagall, pressured by others on the staff to keep Hogwarts as normal as possible, was a bit late with the announcing of Prefects and the Head Boy/Girl.  Normally chosen in September, McGonagall found herself overwhelmed with the end of the Great War, the matters with the Ministry, and trying to figure out how to run a school with more than 400 students attending.  So, with all that, it was understandable why she was in delay.

Sighing irritably, the warm, comfy silence was broken by Harry and Ron yelling down their stairs as they descended.

"Ron, come to grips with yourself—you're possibly the only boy in Hogwarts Parvati has not ensnared in her love trap and you should ask yourself why!" Harry shouted heatedly.

"She's not like that!" Ron yelled back.

"You two should not be having such a private conversation so publicly," Hermione snapped at them.  "Take it elsewhere, or tone it down."

"Shut it, Hermione," Ron snarled.  "This is none of your concern.  Why act so worried when you can't even trust anyone to talk to yourself?"

Hermione's face lit in red.  "How dare you talk to me like that?  I talk to whomever I please, about what I please, and if I just so happen not share something with you, don't take it personal!"

"Gee, then shut the hell up when it comes to things elsewhere you don't understand!"

"I'm trying to think of all those poor souls asleep, you idiot!"

"Shut it, the both of you!" Harry intervened.  Hermione felt tears sting her cheeks.

Clenching her fists, she glared at the both of them, narrowing her eyes.  "Forget the both of you," she shouted, angry herself.  "Leave me alone!  When I want to talk to either of you, I will, not a second before.  And if you think you asking me constantly 'Am I all right' is subtle persuasion, then shove your compassionate concerns, I don't need either of you!"  Hermione then stormed upstairs.

She walked into the girls' bathroom and ran the tap, seriously considering screaming over the rushing water.  Tears were flowing now very fast and uncontrollably.  Why was everything happening the way it was?  The room was now steamy, so Hermione creaked open the door, summoned her book and robe, peeled off her clothes, put her long brown hair up in a clip, and settled in to relax, even for just a little.

She wasn't reading much, though.  Her eyes drifted over the paragraph she was reading, but after fifteen minutes of staring at the same sentence, she gave up and turned to her brooding thoughts.  _Harry, don't you get it?  Don't any of you get it?  Why must I bear my soul, to prove that I am an able friend?  I believe in talking, but there is no one here I can talk to.  I don't want to make anyone worry—imagine if anyone knew the thoughts that ramble in my head!  They would lock me up and throw away the key, protect society from my freakish ways!_

_I have to be so careful what I say around Harry, and Ron.  I must be aware that yes, the person sitting across from me, is someone I love more than just a friend.  There is nothing that hurts me more than my unrequited love._

_After the War, I endured you talking about Cho.  Your worries, your concerns, how you felt around her—how it made you feel light and complete.  Yet all the while, I am agreeing with you—you _do_ make me _feel more complete, more willing to face anything so long as I am with you.  I risked my life to save you in the War, to help you escape Voldemort's mind tricks, how he locked you inside your mind.  I always was there.__

_And now, that it's over, am _I_ over?  I adamantly refused for the last year and a half to admit that I do, in fact, love my best friend.  And the only thing to come out of this realization is that indeed, all the while "building more character," I have to endure the more awkward situations that arise.  I'm tired of having my feelings subdued and deflected._

_But it's not like anyone is pinning away after me.  If you don't even find me attractive, amidst all my flaws, because even I find myself unattractive, and then I have nothing to go on.  I know I lack self-confidence.  But I felt better each day, when I was around you...but now, that you're hardly even here, those echoes seem to grown much louder.  Each day it seems like a little bit more of my concentration goes into not feeling poorly, trying to rid myself of emotion through studying...my safe guard...and it didn't even protect me...from thinking of you and how I feel...all the _BLOODY_ time...._

_I find myself being more closed off, but I pretended just for you.  Just for you, I was okay.  I have never told a single person—they look at me and then at Cho, surely, who is the right choice for you?  So now I've learned to keep my mouth shut, learned to adjust on my own, but I sometimes feel like somehow, everyone knows.  I'm surely too obvious at times.  Yet, you are never there when _I_ need you the most._

_And that's why, in the end, I will be shunted aside for someone more like Cho.  Even by you, Harry, the one I thought was different, will in the end pick another._

_It's always another._


	3. Black

Title: Winds of Change

Author: Kary Starr

Ship: Harry/Hermione

Rating: PG-13/R

Summary: After the Great War, things have changed.  Hermione learns to deal with 

what life is really about, and how to deal it—realizing that not everything can be handled on her own.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Humour

Story Canon: 1-5

AN: Chapter three is up, ain't this quick?  But I'm going on vacation for two weeks, so I will try to use my ghetto laptop to write more while I'm gone.  I'm gonna be in the middle of nowhere, and therefore I cannot even pretend that I'll post this.  This is a bit more sadder, bit more darker, but explains a lot about Hermione.

By the way, I updated chapter two.  Guess what I realized like, fifteen minutes ago.  That Cho would have graduated in Harry & Co. are in seventh year.  So, I had to go back and make sure that you understand that Cho works for the Ministry (where will be told later), and that she visits Harry on occasion.  Remember: this is a weekend we're talking here.  This is Saturday, right now.  So she'd be there…

And now, read, and review.  I love you all!

* * *

**Chapter Three: Black**

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning with a tear-stained pillow.  She'd had that terrible dream again—no one died, but there she was, in the middle of the worst thing she could possible think of...not Voldemort's wrath, not of her parents death (a favourite lately), but something as simple as Harry's wedding, watching him take everlasting vows with Cho Chang.  Just remembering the dream made her want to cry again.  It seemed so real, everything in place, and everything seemed like it really was happening...sometimes Hermione wondered if that was a premonition for the future, then laughed at herself.  That would be Divination.  And Divination was stupid.

She swung off the four-poster maroon bed and made her way to the bathroom, where she washed up, put her hair in a loose ponytail, and dressed in her uniform (white shirt, gray sweater-vest, wool navy skirt, knee-socks, black shoes and robes).  Then she put all of her books for the day into a bag and walked downstairs.

The Common Room was buzzing with voices, some frantic with homework, other gaily laughing, and others, like herself, too tired to care.  Ron and Harry were already dressed and standing near the entrance.  Ron caught her eye first, and looked away, still angry.  Just at that moment, Parvati came to him across the room, took the redhead's hand, and pulled him off to breakfast.  Harry was left there, apparently waiting for her, and Hermione felt, once again, awkward.

"Good morning, Hermione," Harry said tentatively.

"Morning," Hermione replied, walking by him.

Harry followed suit.  "About last night, I was just trying to talk to him—you know, about Parvati—" he explained quickly, anxious to Hermione's reaction.

"I know," she said, stopping and looking at him.  "I'm not mad at you."

Harry raised his eyebrow.  "And you are walking by me huffy because...?"

She gave him an odd look.  "Not everything is about you, Harry," Hermione said, and Harry's face flashed a glare.  "I've got some revising on my thesis to do this morning, in the library, and was keen on finishing it before breakfast.  But I'll be sure to keep you updated."

Harry frowned.  "What is with you?  You've been acting...well...like a bitch since school started."

_Gee, I was just trying to keep MY FEELINGS IN CONTROL SO I DON'T EMBARRASS YOU OR ME, but maybe I'm crazy like that!_ Hermione thought angrily.  That brief thought of anger must have passed over her face, as Harry was taken aback.

"I'm sorry _I'm not up to par," Hermione hissed.  "Why don't __you tell me how _I'm_ supposed to act?"_

"I'm just trying to understand what is the matter with you lately.  And not just lately—" he said heatedly, "—the last...oh...year and a half, you've been downright sarcastic most of the time, and extremely secretive!  I don't like it Hermione—it makes me worry about you too much!"

"Well I'm sorry to be such a bother," she snarled.  "I'll make sure to avoid that in the future."

"Why can't you just tell me what's going on?!" Harry snapped.  "Ever since fifth year's summer—"

Hermione felt tears sink down her cheeks again.

"Leave.  Me.  Alone.  About.  Everything," she said.  Hermione was really crying now.

"Why?  I care about you, you're a very good friend!  I feel like I can come to you for anything, but you can't even return the offer!"

_A very good friend, huh?__  Is that really it? The nasty voice in Hermione's head repeated.  "You really want me to tell you?" she said sarcastically, through gulps of tears._

"_Yes," Harry said, taking her shoulders.  "Please, Hermione, whatever this is you're feeling is eating up the inside of you.  It's making you into a not so nice person, or too overly nice..."_

Her shoulders shook with the flowing tears.  "Harry...I know what this is, is making me a horrible person, but....you know..."  She gasped for air in between the racking tears.  "It's like you said, it's all about..." she trailed off, realizing, that in all for Harry has put up with, he hasn't become angry or snappish.  But then again, he wasn't experiencing what she was feeling.  "You've had worse, you wouldn't care..."

"But I do..." Harry said, looking at her.  He glanced about the room, and saw that some people were staring at them, though the majority had left for breakfast.  The people that were staring at them caught Harry's glare and walked out the portrait hall, leaving.  They were finally alone.

"Hermione, come over to the couch, and sit down," he said, leading her over to the plush maroon seat.  "Tell me, what happened?  What's made you change so much?  Of all of us, I thought it would be you who would be able to adjust.  What is eating you from the inside out?  You can't hold it in forever."

"Harry," Hermione cried, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "you have to promise on everything sacred that you'd _never_ repeat a word to anyone."

"I would never!" Harry replied quickly.

"Not even to _Cho," she said with emphasis._

"She might be some help, you know..." he offered hopefully, taking her hand.

Hermione narrowed her brown eyes, and ripped her hand back.  "No, she won't.  Harry; I don't want to say anything because I _know_ you will tell Cho."

"I won't since you asked," Harry said assuredly.  "What is said here stays here, then."

Hermione hesitated.  She really, truthfully, didn't want Harry to know.  The look of uncertainty crossed her face.  Harry tilted his head sideways.

"Hermione?"  _What can I tell him...that would not scare him...and think I am a mental case?  What would I say that would convince him that I do not, indeed, on occasion see the Dark Lord rising in my dreams, or that I feel like I could have stopped Dumbledore from dying, by blurting out "Godric's Hollow," or that there was a few times where I thought I could sneak over and save Lupin...stop him before entering the building...stop all those screams...and my parents...I saw them crumple to the ground, DEAD, and knowing that no longer can I come home...._

She gulped.  "Harry...it's not that I can't trust you...but I..." she paused.  What way could she word this so that her other best friend would not hate her too?  "...I have to think about this, what I can say to you.  I mean, it's selfish of me, really..."

"You can tell me anything, Hermione—why do you have to think about it?" Harry said, almost angrily.  "What, you really don't trust me?  How could you be selfish?"

"Yes, I do trust you," she replied breathlessly.  "Harry, it's how you'd react that I'm afraid to tell you..."     

"And how could I act?"

"You could start by...by sending me...away...or thinking that...I'm..." Hermione said sadly, trailing off once more.  "Please Harry, this...is deeper than even the Great War.  All those people, dying..."

"You've never said anything about that, Hermione," Harry countered slowly.  _It's kind of hard to when you're sticking your tongue down Cho's throat, you moron..._

"This is...something...very important, and as much as I should like to tell you, I don't think I can.  It's...very _personal."_

Harry's eyes widened at Hermione's comment.  "How personal are we talking?"

She gulped at him, the tears flowing down her cheeks again.  She opened her mouth, then closed it.  Hermione felt a lump in her throat that only seemed to get bigger, until finally, about when she was going to croak out "_You," Parvati entered with a murderous look on her face, the five pounds of makeup caked on her eyes narrowed into a wrinkled mess._

"Oh, that idiot, that stupid...god damn fucking _child_!" she seethed, stomping up the stairs.  The familiar scene, usually after Parvati finds someone she "likes," finds out that he isn't what she _really wants, and then dumps him, acting all "angry and hurt" in hopes to 1) play the penalty to her and 2) wait for the right man to swoop in and make her feel all better._

She wiped her face vigourously.  "Sorry, Harry," she whispered, his attention draw to Parvati.  Louder, she spoke, "Guess Ron got what he wanted."  Hermione stood suddenly.  _Escape..._  Harry glanced up at her.

"Uh, no, not so fast, Hermione—" he started.

"I'm hungry, I want a bite to eat and then I have to _run_ to Charms.  Sorry Harry, we're gonna have to talk later!"  she said quickly, running out with her bag perched atop her shoulder.  Hermione continued to wipe her face clean on the run to the Great Hall.

She knew she was lucky, to have avoided answering his questions.  Now, the real question popped in the back of her mind:

How _long can she avoid it?_

* * *

She walked out of Charms feeling refreshed, and much better about herself.  Advanced Charms only had eleven people in it, and Hermione had figured out the Charm they were learning all on her own, and mastered it in less than twenty-five minutes.

Hermione was upset when Harry and Ron chose to focus their final courses on the normal schedule, and not take Advanced anything, deciding to take usual N.E.W.T. courses instead.  Now she was thankful, because that meant less time she'd have to avoid Harry and Ron.

Deciding that she could eat at the last possible minute, Hermione took a quick stop in the library for more revising on her thesis.  She went into the back with the bigger, more complex books, and was trying to find the book she had needed this morning.  It was called _Advanced Transfiguration: A Better Way of Human Transformation and How it Corresponds to the Patronus Charm_.  She was going to see how many similarities there were between the chosen Patronus Protector and the animal that was chosen for Human Transfiguration.

As Hermione was picking out a book, one of the smaller ones nearby fell out.  Hermione stooped and picked it up, noticing its familiar face.  She had read it three years ago—shocking she could remember the plot.  It was a story about a girl named Emily, whose friend had died by her hand, and how she learned to face reality and face the facts.

Something small clicked in Hermione's mind, as the cover churned dusty wheels in the back of her mind.  Stunned by this flow of emotion, Hermione looked at the book for a long time.  As she was staring at the blue cover, memories floated across her mind wordlessly, like a movie.  How she had treated Harry and Ron.  How Hermione had acted to her other friends.  How poor she had acted, how angry, how snappish....  Hermione, toppled by the morning's events, realized that she had never felt so bad in her life.

She really was a bitch.  She'd been so selfish, trying to ignore the two people that ever gave two thoughts about her.  She was being selfish to Ron, by constantly bickering with him, but being selfish to Harry by being miserable because of him and Cho.

_It's unfair to the both of them, _she thought.  _What would happen if they decided that they don't want to care about you anymore?  You'd be left alone, trapped in your own thoughts, forever._

And her thoughts weren't exactly the most comforting around.  Hermione wanted more than anything to tell someone something, but she was afraid—

—of what?  Hermione saw the Great War, how it tore families and friends apart.  Had she been distancing herself to make the hurt seem less?  Should she just skive Harry off, and let him live his own life?  What about Ron?

And then she realized that it wasn't fair to Ron or Harry for her to be so mean.  They'd given her something priceless, something that she should cherish forever—their friendship and unwavering loyalty.  So why was did Hermione not want to talk to them?

Was she afraid of getting close?  After watching so many people tear away from her in death, was she afraid that Harry and Ron would do the same?  Especially after the Voldemort-rising dreams came to her, so vivid, so truthful.  Was she afraid of the pain?

Hermione prided herself on being a Gryffindor, prided herself on being virtuous.  Though lately, she could qualify to be Slytherin's leader.  She never liked to be afraid of many things.  But here she was, never talking to a soul.  Afraid to let someone get close, like Lupin was, like Dumbledore, like her parents...like her friends...

She dropped the book suddenly.  How could she act this way?  How could she act so badly?  Hermione felt tears drip down her face.  She was a rotten, selfish bitch.  She should be unwanted.  She should be scorned and abandoned.  And yet she wasn't.

Immediately, something told her that she should go find Harry and Ron and apologize.  Hermione wanted very much for her friends to be happy.  And here she was, making them unhappy.  It wasn't fair to them.

She walked back over to her bag and picked it up, clearly on a mission.

* * *

She walked into the Great Hall, past the grand wooden doors and wandered over to her table, the Gryffindor table, decorated with white linens and silver plates, reflecting in the sunlight of the ceiling, bewitched to look like the sky above.

Harry and Ron were already there, sitting and talking.  When she stood in front of them, setting her bag down, Harry gave her a slightly hurt look, and Ron was looking sheepish.

"Good afternoon," she said quietly.  Suddenly, she became very sad.  She needed to get out of this funk she was in.  It was depressing her.  Hermione never felt in her life like she needed to talk to someone—these thoughts, that were indeed eating at her—

"Hey, Hermione," Harry replied dully.  Ron fiddled with his fork.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at the two of them.  "Harry, Ron," she started, "I'm so sorry.  I've been thinking—"  _Understatement__, she thought,  "—and I want to say that I'm so happy you two have stuck with me for so long.  You two truly are great friends."_

"Well," Harry said, leaning in, "that's what we've been trying to communicate to you for a while.  I thought that maybe it rung in this year..."

"It has, Harry," Hermione said sadly, gazing at him.  _I'm going to be a bigger person.  This has to stop.  I can't think of Harry like this anymore.  I want him to be happy.  And if he happiest with Cho, then lest it be me to stop that.  I want the both of them to be happy...I cannot wallow in self-pity.  Harry hasn't.  He's so strong, and I'm so weak, but I must try to be stronger for the two of them.  I am the voice of reason.  So I must now act reasonably._

"I just want to let you know, that I've been feeling a lot of pent up feelings lately," Hermione said through a deep breath, "and it's mostly because I've kept them to myself for a while.  I don't sleep well anymore—so I was very irritable."

"Why don't you sleep well, Hermione?" Ron asked suddenly.

"Because...I dream...about...people dying..." she said, tears flowing down her cheeks.  "I see my parents, and Lupin, and Dumbledore, and Tonks, and Seamus...I see them all dying...constantly..."

"Oh, Hermione," Harry breathed, turning around and reached over, taking her hand that was clenched at her side.

"I see that stupid green light come for me, and knowing that when it misses, someone else close to me has died," Hermione croaked, rambling on.  "And I see Him...V-Voldemort...with his eyes..."

"But he's gone," Ron interjected gently.  "You have nothing to fear from him."

"I see him, though, Ron.  I see him, when he was controlling you...and I'm torn apart.  I've never felt so much in such a short time...I never was so worried about anyone than I was worried about you two...and..."

Now she was really crying, and Harry stood, putting a comforting arm around her.  "Come on, Hermione, we need to be in a more private room."  Ron followed suit and helped Hermione back to the Common Room.

Skiving off the afternoon classes, they listened as Hermione, finally deciding, talked and talked about what had happened in the last couple of months.  She fumbled with the words, knowing as soon as she started, she wouldn't want to stop until everything was out and said.  Everything except a few things—like Harry, for instance.

When she finished, talking straight for two hours, Harry and Ron sighed very loudly.  Hermione watched them anxiously.  "I've never felt so foolish or selfish.  I feel so rotten."

Ron reached over and gave her a huge hug.  "Hermione, we totally understand how you feel.  If I had known..."

Harry was staring at Hermione intently.  She really was the strongest one of them all—she never had an outlet; Harry suspected that she never told them not because they wouldn't listen but because they wouldn't want to _listen, the way she needed them to._

Hermione leaned down and lay on the couch.  She felt so much better, but she was so tired.  She was trying to bear a burden that she should never had to, but she did, and now instead of feeling relieved, she felt like she had spent the last two hours complaining.  Harry never complained.

She felt so ridiculous all of a sudden.  Certainly, Harry did deal a lot of it by himself—why couldn't she?  Why...?

"Hermione?" Harry asked, watching her eyes close.  _I'm going to have to act against everything..._

Her breathing became steady, as she sat there calming down and without realizing it, Hermione fell half asleep.  Harry pushed back her curly brown hair from her face and gazed down at her for a moment, Hermione trying not to pay attention to the light brush of his skin.

"Come on," Ron said dully.  "She's fallen asleep."  Hermione felt him stand, though she did not see it, and cover her with a blanket.  "I've got to talk to Parvati, and you—you've got to go see Cho.  You missed her this afternoon—she's gonna be pissed."

"Shit, you're right," Harry replied.  Hermione felt the familiar pang at her chest, when her heart dropped when Harry or Ron talked about Cho.  Tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes.

"Talk to you later, mate," Ron said, as Hermione heard Harry run off.  _Guess that settles it_, she thought.  _Even after pouring your heart out, they run away._

_I shouldn't be so ungrateful.  I should be pleased they at least listened.  At least they'll stop asking me what is wrong.  Now I can concentrate on making sure Harry is happy.  And if he's happiest with Cho—well—then I should be happy too._


	4. Green

Title: Winds of Change  
  
Author: Kary Starr  
  
Ship: Harry/Hermione  
  
Rating: PG-13/R  
  
Summary: After the Great War, things have changed. Hermione learns to deal with what life is really about, and how to deal it-realizing that not everything can be handled on her own.  
  
Genre: Angst, Romance, Humour  
  
Story Canon: 1-5  
  
AN: School has started back up and sorry to report, I thought senior year was supposed to be a lot of fun (YEAH right.I've had more homework in the last two weeks than I had almost in the span of last year.no, not really, but it is quite a bit of homework). So in other words, I've been busy. And then we broke our computer.again.and could not get online until we got a better anti-virus system, which meant, terribly, 5 weeks of waiting to even check my mail, because my school system is fucking anal retentive and feels the need to control every goddamn aspect of every waking moment. But enjoy this. I hope you do. Guess what: my friend Anita made me an awesome bracelet today. It's green and black and says, "Severus." Because I have so many chapters and really, so little to say, I think I will end this here and let you all read.because I know this is something you *so* want.  
  
Disney movies rock.  
  
"Family is just a dirty word for CENSORSHIP!"  
  
Read and review.  
  
* * *  
  
Chapter Four: Green  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione awoke later that evening, and heard the murmured voices as people entered from their evening class. She stretched and the red blanket fell off her. She glanced down at it and sighed.  
  
"Hermione, you're awake," Ron said, from behind her. She turned around and rested her arm on the back of the couch.  
  
"Yeah, I am," she said. She noticed a small blonde girl sitting next to him, at his arm. It was Luna Lovegood. With Ginny and Dean Thomas, another seventh year Gryffindor (they'd been dating since the end of Ginny's fourth year). And they were sitting with Harry...and Cho.  
  
"Are you feeling all right?" Harry asked, his arm resting on Cho's shoulders comfortably. They must have been talking; Hermione instantly felt like an intruder, gazing at the three couples.  
  
"Um, fine," she muttered, standing. Her heart was hammering in her chest- her stomach plummeting and rising, like she was riding on a roller coaster of emotions. The one thing that she did not want to deal with right now was Cho and Harry.  
  
"Hermione," Luna said, dreamily, looking quite peachy again, "may I talk to you for one moment?"  
  
"Here?" Hermione said, picking up the blanket.  
  
"No, outside," she continued, oddly reminding Hermione of Professor Trelawny, the Divination teacher. Luna stood and Hermione followed her out of the Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
When they were alone, Luna turned to her, her pale eyes bright. "I can't believe what happened today, I just wanted to tell you..."  
  
"Oh?" Hermione replied, looking at Luna with mild interest.  
  
"Yes, when Ronald was wandering after his encounter with Parvati-she dumped him, of course, for Draco Malfoy, did you hear?" Hermione shook her head. Luna continued. "-anyway, he walked by me...and at the sight of him, I started to weep. He came over to me and asked me what was wrong. Ronald was never one for the obvious," she said pointedly. Hermione knew this, but didn't say anything. "He kindly put his arm around me and lead me to a chair. Of course, I could not tell him, but instead he was so kind about it-and then he said, 'Luna, why were you so upset the other day?' I replied, 'I was upset with you, Ronald.' He looked concerned, and then...reached over...and took my hand, ever so gently. 'I'm sorry, Luna,' he said quietly. And then I gave him a quick kiss on the lips-to tell him that he was forgiven. Well, Ronald thought it was much more than that, and he kissed me back." She sighed out loud happily. "It was bliss, Hermione."  
  
Hermione smiled, not really wanting to smile, but knowing that was what she was supposed to do. "I'm so glad that you are happy, and Ron too," she said, giving Luna a hug. "He's so lucky-and you're good for him. Maybe you'll convince him that there are more emotions, and he can then have a tablespoon."  
  
Luna grinned, her eyes sparkling. "I'm am very happy, Hermione." She walked over to the portrait. "Coming?"  
  
She was looking away from Luna, tears threatening to fall. Oh, this emotion, much greater than any death, was eating her away more than she could even imagine. Now they are all happy-good for them, she knew. But what about her? Was it fair to be miserable to make sure that they were all happy? Was it fair to her?  
  
Of course not, but she missed her chance. It was her fault. Or maybe it was fate. Either was, Hermione was consumed by jealousy of her friends.  
  
"No," she said firmly, almost angry. She turned to Luna tears shining in her brown eyes. "Um, I'm going somewhere else. I think I'm gonna take a walk."  
  
Luna was taken aback. "Hermione, you did not like Ronald, did you?" she asked suddenly.  
  
"No, no, Luna," she said, with a sigh. "I do not like Ron. He's a great guy, but not the one for me. Um, Magellan," she said, turning to the Fat Lady, the portrait and entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, and she swung opened obediently. "I'll talk to you later."  
  
Luna cocked her head and smiled sweetly. "All right," she said. "I shall see you later, then?"  
  
Hermione nodded, biting her bottom lip. "Yeah," she replied softly. "See you."  
  
Luna entered and the portrait swung closed. Hermione stared at it, though the Fat Lady was there, reading a book, not noticing her. Finally realizing herself, she walked away, and sat in the middle of the hallway, with her knees up and her head on the top. She tried to breathe steadily.  
  
She should be doing her homework, not moping around. She regretted missing her classes, but at this point, she was wondering if that should be the only thing she concentrated on. Hermione was upset that she got so worked up over nothing-maybe she should just let them live on, not bothering them; after all, it's not like she's on the top of anyone's list anymore. She hated being single when all her friends had someone. Though, this here has never happened: never has Harry, Ron, Luna, and Ginny had other people. Even Neville was "sporting" a girlfriend-Susan Bones, in Hufflepuff. God, she was so lonely.  
  
That, and she was sure that acting sulky would only get her as far as a blind date. Ugh, she could just see Ginny and Luna scheming to interfere. Lucky her. With that thought, she realized that she could not be sullen. She needed to be happy. Hermione needed to make sure that none of them decided that it would be a good idea to cheer her up with a "guy," one that she knew would never work. Why? Because her heart is set on another.  
  
Hermione stood and made her way over to the Tower when she was stopped in the hall by none other than Draco Malfoy and his co-whore, Parvati Patil. They were...well...somewhere between making out and having sex, though Hermione did not want to witness either. She didn't know where to escape, so she turned around and was going to walk back, when a voice drifted to her.  
  
"What could the little long-mollared bushy-haired Mudblood want at this hour?" Draco Malfoy drawled, with Parvati, wiping her mouth, grinning madly.  
  
"I'm trying to get back to the Tower, you twitchy ferret," she spat, not wanting to deal with his shit right now.  
  
He walked away from Parvati and over to her, setting a hand around her shoulders and pulling her in close. Hermione's body went stiff and, struggling, tried to free herself of his unwanted grip. Parvati started to giggle. God, she wanted to hit her. Hard.  
  
"I actually think that Gryffindors aren't too bad anymore," he breathed into her ear. Parvati giggled even louder, and Hermione's hand spasmed in response to her untamed will to smack her.  
  
"I know one that kisses very well," he continued, putting a hand on her chin and turning her face to his. She looked into his deep ice blue eyes with her narrowed brown ones. He grinned, his perfect teeth very, very close to her own. Though she wasn't grinning.  
  
"Malfoy, if you don't get your hands off of me right now, I won't make the same mistake Lorena Bobbitt did, throwing it where the police could find it," Hermione hissed at him, though it did nothing to phase him. Lorena Bobbitt was a crazed Muggle woman; Hermione doubted he knew who she was.  
  
Malfoy, if possible, leaned in close to her without actually touching her face. "Aw, what's a little harm? You don't have a boyfriend, and it's not like there's a line for Miss Hermione Granger, resident Mudblood, to be wanted, now is there?" And with that, he planted a kiss on her lips.  
  
Hermione was stunned for a moment, not willing to register that one of her worst enemies was giving her something so sacred that she was saving for that one, namely Harry, should he ever get rid of Cho, and that Malfoy, of all people, was giving Hermione her first kiss.  
  
She pushed him away, maybe a little too late, and wiped her mouth vigourously. "How do you catch girls with such a poor kiss?" she snarled, seriously grossed out.  
  
"You certainly didn't seem to pull away quick enough, Granger-dear," Parvati said from the sidelines, giggling so hard that whatever made her smart was surely falling out of her head with all the banging around going up there. "What, never had one of those? That's what happens between two people that like each other, you know-they kiss, and maybe more."  
  
"Well, I certainly know you've had much more," Hermione replied, her face red as the setting sun, "since you could probably write a dictionary with all the boys you've slept with...what, is Malfoy like, five thousand twenty?"  
  
Parvati's makeup flushed, though she wasn't sure that the coloured five inches of blush and powder would qualify for any sort of embarrassment, and suddenly, Parvati had nothing more to say, her mouth clamped, and her lips pursed.  
  
"Don't talk to my girlfriend like that, Granger," Malfoy said with a sneer. "That was uncalled for."  
  
Hermione was now fuming, and she started to spit before she could think. "What," she bristled, "calling her a slut behind her back is better? Because that's what she is-boys may think she's pretty, but I call her used."  
  
A resounding slap came from both sides, Malfoy walloping her left cheek and then her head snapped back to the left with a sting on the right, from Parvati. "How dare you!" she shrieked.  
  
"You started this!" Hermione shouted back, hand prints on both cheeks. "You might think it's funny to do this, but when push comes to shove, you always lose!" And with that, Hermione stomped off to the Towers, leaving before any of them could say another word.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione stormed into the Gryffindor Common Room, still angry and upset, trying desperately to rid her mind of that horrible, horrible thing that had happened just minutes ago. The people formerly known as "friends" ignored her angry walk of Death, lucky for them-though she was upset they didn't even ask what was wrong.  
  
She went into her room, yanked open the maroon curtains and flopped onto the bed. Hermione felt tears, once again, stain her cheeks. Oh, that was surely going to get around the school-Hermione Granger, the good one, the smart one, the Mudblood, kissed Draco Malfoy, spawn of Satan and proud card- carrier of Assholes Anonymous.  
  
Hermione felt like she was going to be violently sick, if it were not for Ginny, who had entered her room and sat at the edge of her bed.  
  
"I heard," she said quietly, looking at the floor. Hermione raised her head and looked at her.  
  
"What...what did you hear?"  
  
"From Parvati," she said solemnly. "As she walked into the Common Room with Lavender. She said that you and Malfoy had kissed."  
  
She groaned and shoved her head into her pillow. "I need a disinfectant," she mumbled into the sheet. "God, everyone's gonna know by tomorrow..."  
  
"When Harry and Ron found out, they practically shoved each other aside to get out of the Common Room door. Cho was very upset about this, though I think it was Harry rushing out because of you that made her angry. Luna sat there with a smile plastered onto her face. I think she's getting a nasty idea to get Parvati back."  
  
"Harry...and Ron know?" she said to Ginny, thankful that the pillow protected her from the blush that Ron's younger sister might see.  
  
"Yep." She put her hand on Hermione's back. "You all right?"  
  
"No," Hermione muttered, her shoulders shaking because she was going to cry. "It's not all right, oh my God, Malfoy kissed me! And it..." Hermione paused, then shook her head. Too humiliating if it got out that that was her first. "...it was a bad kiss too. He's a terrible kisser."  
  
There was a pause. And uncomfortable pause.  
  
"Ginny?" Hermione asked, looking up. "What is there? What?"  
  
She cleared her throat. "Ah, Hermione," Ginny said gently, "that's what he said about you."  
  
Hermione's stomach seized. Ugh. Not only did she have to endure the taunts of being kissed, but the taunts of being a poor kisser, too. And what if...a certain someone heard them? What if he believed them? Oh no, oh no...  
  
Big fat tears streaked down and were sucked into the pillow. Hermione never felt more sick than she did now. Surely, surely, she felt worse when Harry was going to be vapourized before her eyes? No. Hardly. Hermione felt impending doom weigh heavily on her shoulders, seeping through her torso and settling into her stomach. Everything on her ached, like she'd run a marathon. And here, the youngest Weasley tells her calmly that Harry knows, and that supposedly she was a bad kisser. Hermione thought she was going to die.  
  
"Ginny, can I be alone for a bit?" she asked timidly. Her eyes felt puffy, trying to restrain bawling, just for a couple more minutes...  
  
"Yeah, Hermione," she said, standing up. "You know, if you want to talk, I'm down the hall. We never seem to talk anymore."  
  
Yeah, you and everyone else... Hermione thought. Why was everyone so bloody insistent on her talking to them? Can't she just have some secrets to herself? Why can't they just leave...her...alone?  
  
"Night, Ginny," Hermione mumbled to her red-haired friend, and closed the maroon curtains. When she heard the door click closed, Hermione's body felt that one needed release, and tears came flowing out of her, tears that had been pent up for so long.  
  
There went her chance with Harry. After hearing Malfoy had kissed her, surely she was damaged? Lucky he did not do more, like his counterpart father has, no doubt, but kissing her was bad enough. Especially passing around sacred information like how good/bad she was. Hell if she knew she was decent or not; it's not like she'd had experience to compare it with.  
  
A bit premature, isn't it? she thought. Perhaps. She didn't know if Harry would ever break up with Cho; they've had their rough patches over the last couple of months, constantly bickering, only to make up by making out. It saddened Hermione every time they forgave one another...just one more fight, she thought, one more and then they'll be done. Hermione was very petty about this, only in her mind-she certainly would never tell a soul this.  
  
But every fight was followed by, "I can't live without you!" and then their relationship would be renewed. It irritated Hermione beyond anything she knew to see this happen.  
  
But now it didn't matter. Hermione's been kissed by the King of Assholes, Draco Malfoy, and her pure reputation tarnished, surely to be embellished later on, especially if Viktor is dragged into this-she never kissed that missing link for nothing, but there was times when he was close on making his move. Ugh, Hermione thought he was nice, but he was not the one for her. To be perfectly honest, when she found out Krum had to be on his Quidditch Schedule, and couldn't see her at all, she was more than relieved. She wrote him letters, but eventually, the letters got further and further apart, until none came in reply. Then she found out on the news that Viktor was sporting a model from Hungary, and he was happy- Hermione knew that she was out of a potential boyfriend, thank God.  
  
Ron shut up about it all-he never liked Krum, but that was only because, in late one night of sixth year, Ginny told her that Ron liked her. That was disturbing. She ignored it, and never told anyone she knew, and gave Ron no advances to take. That seemed to quiet him.  
  
Of course, Hermione knew that Ron liked her all along, it didn't take Ginny or a genius to know that. Ron was so obvious about it, so protective, always trying to kip a seat next to her, always trying to be nice (when he could and wasn't bickering). In fact, before their fifth year, during the summer when they were cooped up at the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters (Sirius's mum's house), Ron was very close to her at times. Too close.  
  
The only person she ever, ever wanted to be close to was Harry.  
  
And Harry, unfortunately, was just too far away.  
  
* * *  
  
"Attention, attention please," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "Please, may I have your attention?" Her frazzled hair, gray with age and stress, fell out of its perfectly placed bun as she slapped her hand on the Head Table.  
  
"I have two announcements today," she said, after clearing her throat and readjusting the square-rimmed glasses that perched atop her nose. "One is the new Head Girl and Boy, plus the House Prefects." The murmurs died down instantly; suddenly, the dinner-time chatter in the Great Hall was nothing but whispers of wind.  
  
Hermione was looking forward to this after the last few days of taunting and terrorizing she'd experienced-namely from Slytherin-and Harry's absolute mission to avoid her at all costs. Cho must have made him; she wasn't there to keep an eye on him and there was nothing more she'd like to catch him in the act from her informant sources. Cho Chang was a very, very jealous girlfriend.  
  
She was jealous of Hermione's attention from Harry.  
  
For all that could be deduced, Hermione had no idea why-if Cho was half as jealous as Hermione was of she, Cho would be greener than a golf fairway. Hermione had already boiled over twice to these new couples, plain old walking out of the room when she felt the stinging sarcasm bit at her tongue, screaming to be flung her happy friends. Ginny and Dean were no new problem; Ginny was always too open with her relationship, often telling Hermione things she didn't want to hear, like how romantic he was on Valentine's Day (one of the good ones) or how Dean knew just where to touch her to make her scream (one of the worst ones).  
  
Luna and Ron were relatively new, so they didn't pose as much a threat as normal-but they still were playing tonsil-hockey in the Common Room, apparently working for the top of the list after Ginny and Dean, or even worse, Parvati and Malfoy.  
  
Oh, it was lucky, lucky for her that Mr. Malfoy was allowed into the Common Room, accompanied with the Whore-ific Parvati. And they certainly didn't hesitate to go at it. In front of everyone. But not before they threw a couple of comments her way. Her favourite part of the weekend was when Parvati invited Malfoy into the room the seventh year girls shared. Oh, Hermione certainly heard an earful that night, trying to sleep in the midst of Parvati's orgasmic throws of passion.  
  
The weekend ended with Cho and Harry playing the "Let's Avoid Hermione" game, coming close to appearing to Apparate out of rooms she walked into (knowing full well, of course, that Hogwarts doesn't allow any sort of Apparating or Disapparating anywhere).  
  
So, naturally, almost knowing full well she was going to be named Head Girl and was going to get her own room off the Gryffindor Common Room was something she was looking most forward to.  
  
"Our Head Boy is Harry Potter," McGonagall stated. Harry, whom Hermione was absently watching, stood and went over to the Head Table to receive his pin. He was surprised, though. No other non-Prefect had ever become Head Boy since, Hermione assumed, his father. "And our new Head Girl is Hermione Granger." Hermione stood and went to the Table to stand by Harry, getting her own pin.  
  
It was gold with a lion on it, a helmet with red feathers pouring from his top, and the words "Head Girl" calligraphed across the front. It pleased her. She, without thinking, turned to Harry and grinned.  
  
Harry gave her a small smile and turned away from her. Hermione wanted to ask him what was wrong (why the hell won't he talk to her...?), but was cut short when she realized that she was surrounded by eight fifth years, all holding the Prefect pins as inquisitively as the first time she held her very own. The only Prefect from fifth year Gryffindor she recognized was the familiar mousy-haired Dennis Creevey, brother to Colin Creevey, who died in the Great War.  
  
"You may all sit now," Hermione heard, and she reluctantly sat. Harry was Head Boy; this would make them closer, as both of them had to consult constantly about nearly everything. But Cho's disregard for her could make this difficult.  
  
God, Cho was so stupid.  
  
Hermione's attention was soon drawn, however, not from her envy-induced thoughts but to the second of McGonagall's bullets on the agenda.  
  
"There will also be a ball, a sort of a Christmas celebration, open to fifth years and above, on December 21, the night before term ends. Only couples will be permitted; formal dress required. That is all."  
  
On her right, Ginny squealed in excitement. "Oh, new dresses! That's wonderful!"  
  
Yeah, Hermione thought. Wonderful.  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
I feel as if I should add some Tom Jones music here.  
  
Sternite: No, it won't be a one-way love; I hope not, anyway.  
  
Robaatsu: many more than just one! Hell, I think this'll be a very, very long story, or maybe I'll shorten it up. Dunno yet.  
  
CNJ: Any girl can be jealous in any situation-I like to look at the perspective of, she's known him longer, and imagine unrequited love. It sucks.  
  
Josie: it's not a dark lust story.^^ yeah, it is. By the way, I really wish I could go to NYC. I'm totally going to embarrass you guys when we go see The Producers. grin  
  
sarahrae3391: Of course, I'll email you! Yay! An emailer! 


	5. Red

Peace.  
  
Title: Winds of Change  
  
Author: Kary Starr  
  
Ship: Harry/Hermione  
  
Rating: PG-13/R  
  
Summary: After the Great War, things have changed. Hermione learns to deal with what life is really about, and how to deal it-realizing that not everything can be handled on her own.  
  
Genre: Angst, Romance, Humour  
  
Story Canon: 1-5  
  
AN: Back again, not without much to miss. Totally random, who here thinks that Alan Rickman's best looking movie is Sense and Sensibility? You know, if you've seen Hamlet (with Kenneth Branagh) she seems to be just like a Harry Potter movie.  
  
SPEAKING of the next movie, what the HELL were they thinking when they cast Gary Oldman?!?!?!?! I mean, the guy is not at all ever meant to be Sirius Black. I always saw Viggo Mortesen in that part. I mean, come on, Gary Oldman? No offense if you like him, I don't. Fifth Element and oh, I don't know, DRACULA seem to ring in my mind.  
  
Before I forget, I had a dream last night about Alan Rickman. NO, YOU PERVS not like that (he's gonna be 57 in January, sorry, he is just a little bit old). In my town, Private Lives is coming to the local stage, and I dreamt that Alan Rickman was going to make a special appearance, and that I absolutely HAD to see him on stage, because he won so many awards for the role.  
  
Anyway, note to self: need to get the Lord of the Rings CD #2, for the last song. That is so cool. More on that later.  
  
If you can catch the Sense and Sensibility line, you will one million dollars.in knowledge.and an award for being pathetic.  
  
Read, review.  
  
* * *  
  
Chapter Five: Red  
  
* * *  
  
The dinner ended rather uneventfully, Hermione most of the time stirring her fork in her spaghetti. Great, just great. A couples-only dance. On my last year. UGH! And, as Hermione well knew, the Head Girl and Boy have to plan the dance, too. Together. Oh what a cruel, cruel world.  
  
Hermione, as reported, went to the Headmaster's office after dinner, though not accompanied with Harry. He ate rather quickly, as Hermione tried to not to pay attention (Ginny was going off about some dress she saw in Witch Weekly that would look great with her long red hair), but he stole out of the room unnoticed.  
  
So now, using the password given to her earlier that day (McGonagall had mentioned something in Transfiguration after class about it), she went up the stairs and entered the Headmaster's office.  
  
She only been here precious few times in and out of the years, a lot more during sixth year than she liked, but McGonagall hardly changed a thing from Dumbledore's days. Gizmos and gadgets buzzed and moved throughout the room, and objects spun of glass glistened in the lamplight. There were two chairs for them; Harry was already seated at the left, and Hermione sat down in the identical red plush chair on the right. She folded her hands in her lap and looked at McGonagall expectantly, who was seated behind a huge oak desk covered in papers and books.  
  
"Now, you two," she started, "we have two weeks left until this ball, and the budget is not exactly what you'd call bountiful, so I'm hoping you can come up with something magnificent for the 21st. You can use these two hours now as planning time, and I want a status report with estimates at the end of the week, Friday. That's two days from now," she said, looking at them, "but I don't want to rush you. I know the two of you will do a wonderful job." She paused. "Well, hop to it."  
  
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Harry said, standing. "Hermione and I will have something beautiful planned by Friday."  
  
"Ah, thank you Potter. And you too, Granger," she added. "Good night."  
  
"Night, Professor," Hermione said meekly, standing as well. The two Gryffindors exited without comment. When they approached the Griffin that took them downstairs, still they said nothing.  
  
When Harry stepped off the revolving staircase, he hurried briskly ahead. Hermione frowned at his back. Now what could his problem be? Cho must have really told him off...  
  
"Harry?" Hermione asked, pulling on her black robes. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"  
  
He stopped ahead of her. "Sure, Hermione." Harry glanced back at her, a look of uneasiness in his eyes.  
  
"Why...are you avoiding me?" she asked delicately. "Is it because of Malfoy?"  
  
Harry gulped, and put his hand behind his head. "No, not entirely..."  
  
"What?" Hermione replied briskly. "Then what is it?"  
  
Harry looked down at her. Hermione never noticed how much taller he really was. "Well, when I heard about Malfoy kissing you and all-that was very upsetting. But then Cho-Cho said that I should ignore it, because it was a way for you to get attention. Then I replied that Hermione would never do that, not that kind of attention, you know? And then-" he paused, looking away guiltily. Hermione knew it. It had to come sometime.  
  
"The ultimatum, wasn't it?" Hermione said softly.  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied, looking at her sadly. "I really love her, Hermione, and I figured, well, if she knew I had skived you for a bit, then she would calm down like she always does and you would...you would understand, right?"  
  
Hermione nodded, her throat tight. Tears stung the corner of her eyes. That bitch, God, it's not fair to have to make Harry choose... She was so angry at the both of them. She understood Harry's actions, but he should never have had to be put in that position.  
  
"I understand, Harry," Hermione whispered. She couldn't even talk. She felt like the wind was taken out of her stomach.  
  
"Are you all right?" Harry asked suddenly. "You seem...upset..."  
  
"I'm not upset, Harry," Hermione said, absentmindedly wiping her eyes. "It's not fair for Cho to put that on you, to make you choose between her and me. But I'm glad it's this way. I mean, Harry, I want you to be happy, and if being with Cho-" and not me, she thought sadly. "-makes you happy, then Harry, please don't worry about me. Of course I'll understand. After all-" tears leaked down her cheeks, "what are friends for?"  
  
"Oh, Hermione," he said, wrapping her in his strong arms, "I'm sorry, I knew it wasn't fair any way I picked..." Use colours for the chapter titles depending on how the chapter goes: confrontation with Cho-Green anger-Red death/whatever-Black wonderful life-Yellow extreme sadness-Blue  
  
She started to shake, gripping handfuls of his robe at his chest, as tears came over her. What if this is the last time Harry ever give me a hug? What if he never can talk to me again? Because of CHO...and her jealousy...  
  
"Harry, I just want you to be happy," she cried, shaking into his strong grip.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he said. "She just was worried about us. She was afraid that something could happen between us. I told her that she was just jealous, but that didn't go over well..." He leaned back a little. "Nothing will happen between us, right?" He seemed to be looking for the right answer, and not the truth. The truth that was bursting from her. His pause seemed to indicate he was looking for verification.  
  
Hermione felt a tear slide down her cheek, as she looked into Harry's fathomless eyes.  
  
The deciding moment. The truth-or to lie. What she said...what she could say...but without thinking, Hermione spoke. "No, Harry, nothing," she said with an attempted smile. "Nothing can happen to us, we're the best of friends, aren't we?"  
  
"That's good," he said, pulling her closer again. "I'm glad to have such a close friend like you."  
  
"Yeah," Hermione said, her eyes welling over once more. "Nothing like it."  
  
* * *  
  
"So, I was thinking, that maybe the decorations should have a colour scheme. What do you think?"  
  
"Uh?" Hermione looked up at Harry. His renewed friendship felt like it was tearing her into a million pieces. She was so angry at herself. And, on top of that, she was not paying attention to anything.  
  
"Colour scheme?" he repeated.  
  
"Yeah, that would be cute," she said. Pay attention, he'll figure it out! And with that, she added, "What about silver? Silver is very Christmas-y."  
  
"So is gold," Harry added. "What about gold, red and green?"  
  
Hermione frowned. "Doesn't that scream...Gryffindor elaboration?"  
  
"A little," Harry said, looking down at the paper he was writing on. Hermione had sketched out the rough outside of the Great Hall, where the tables should be placed, etc. So far, they had the tables placed by four, all grouped in one space, though they were not crowded. They encompassed a square spot in the middle, where Harry had hoped the dancers would go.  
  
They were going to extend the decorations from the Entrance Hallway, down the stairs, and into the Great Hall itself. They supposed that garland would make for a festive decoration, with green ivy and red berries. But they were stuck on the garland colour.  
  
"Gold is very pretty, though," she said. "I would pick it, just that since the two of us are in Gryffindor and all, gold and red...you know..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, got it." Harry looked closer at the paper, touching heads with Hermione who was looking down at it as well. "Sorry," he said quickly.  
  
"No problem," Hermione said, though her heart was in her throat. Just one touch and you're all a-flutter. This is worse than either you or I thought....  
  
Shut up. We're friends. He said he loves Cho.  
  
But can you really love someone-like that-even when you're this young?  
  
He does, end of story.  
  
"Well, what about garland here," she said, drawing with the quill lines up and down the staircase, with the ivy leaves intertwined. "Better?"  
  
"Yep," Harry said.  
  
"What about floating candles?" Hermione said after a small silence, glancing down at the paper. "And, of course, the tree." She drew it in.  
  
"Ah, the tree. Decorated with golden ornaments."  
  
Hermione hung her head. "I feel a little like Martha Stewart..." she said, trying not to grin.  
  
"So do I," Harry admitted, and started to laugh. Hermione resisted looking at him, and giggling politely, glanced down at the parchment.  
  
She concentrated on the job before her. "What if there were three candles, large ones, on golden pillars, with green ivy and red berries, on different levels? I mean, to the entrance," Hermione specified.  
  
"That would be very...romantic," Harry said, sitting back, and stretching.  
  
Hermione noticed him. "You want to go to bed, Harry?" she asked, catching him mid-yawn.  
  
"Nah, got an essay left to do..." Harry glanced at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace from where they were borrowing light. "It's nearly eleven...and we're gonna have to move all of our things tomorrow...to our new rooms..."  
  
"Not soon enough," Hermione muttered, rubbing her temples. God, she only wondered if stupid Parvati had Malfoy up in her room...their room, but it's not like Lavender ever kipped there anymore-she never spends the night in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione didn't know where she was, though.  
  
"Parvati, huh?" Harry said, leaning in, resting his elbows on his knees, guessing at her side comment.  
  
"You have no idea, Harry..." she murmured, feeling dread settle into her stomach. "That...cow...of a slut Parvati has had Malfoy stay over twice since Sunday."  
  
"You know, I never knew they allowed that until this year," he added, thoughtfully.  
  
Hermione replied flatly, "They don't. It's against the rules. But you won't see Professor Snape turn in Malfoy-somehow, somewhere, that name still demands respect from that miserable old bat." She paused. Though she usually stuck up for Snape-and Harry did, too, most of the time, after the end of fifth year (though no one but Harry knew why), she was just too exhausted to care. "And I can't say one word on Parvati, she'd make it even more worse for me than it already is."  
  
Harry heaved a sigh. "Yeah, that really sucks..." he said, exhaling. Fishing for a change of subject, he added, "You know, we've worked on this all we can, call it a night? You look tired, Hermione. More than usual.... Get some rest."  
  
"I can't go back up there," she moaned. "I don't want to witness the evil that is Parvati." Hermione looked up at Harry. "Hey, you said it was eleven, right?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"Where's Ron?" she asked, slightly bewildered. Harry turned red and looked determinedly away from Hermione.  
  
As if she was suddenly bestowed with an over-abundance of information that she did not want, nor need, to know, and was enlightened without any words spoken. "Oh, my," she said quietly, flushing herself.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry dully. "Sometimes I wish Cho was in my year. Then..." he paused, blushing furtively, "it certainly would be easier...she would know what was going on, like normal couples, and would stop being so damned jealous."  
  
"Boy, to have the troubles of a love life," Hermione said coolly, wrapping the paper up. When Harry started to chat about Cho, that usually was her cue to get up and leave-now. For other reasons than she just liked Harry, but that she just didn't want to hear it. "Night, Harry."  
  
"Oh, yeah, right-" Harry said, looking at her. "Sorry-"  
  
"What have you got to be sorry for?" said Hermione, nearly snapping at him. "It's not your fault that I can't round up a guy to like me." She started to feel huffy, and turning on her heel, she walked away from him. Harry jumped up and walked after her, following her to her stairwell.  
  
"Someone's bound to think you're great, Hermione," Harry said, in a rush, pulling her back by her sleeve. "You're really smart, and you're not half bad looking, and you're really nice-"  
  
"Oh hush your pity talks, Harry Potter," she said with tears in her eyes. If he knew that you were the one-the guy I liked... "That's-you're-you're just so dense sometimes! Tactless! I would love to have a boyfriend, Harry. I don't need you to come over here and assure me that I'll eventually be good enough for someone. Gee, why don't we take a trip back in time to fourth year? Hmm, the Yule Ball. When I didn't get asked by anyone except as a last resort. Except for Viktor. Lucky catch I made, huh? Only those lucky in love assure others that they'll have their day in the sun. Well," Hermione felt tears down her cheeks, not one boyfriend in the last three years, "take your sympathy and shove it. My sun has set...and I just don't care anymore!"  
  
She stomped up the stairs and into to her dormitory room.  
  
There were noises coming through the heavy oaken door. She was going to have to wait until they were done before she could enter. Hermione settled down angrily on the floor, burying her head in her arms, feeling tears of self-pity streak her cheeks.  
  
This was going to be a long, long night.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione washed and brushed the next morning, thankful that Malfoy had to stow away in the early hours of the night to get back to his dormitory before anyone "noticed." She pulled out her trunks and started packing- happy enough to get out of this hellhole whorehouse Parvati had made the seventh year girls' dorm into.  
  
She didn't finish before first classes, but got a good portion of it done. Shoving books, parchment, ink/quills and her wand into her bag, Hermione ran down the stairs hoping to catch a slice of toast before having to heavily concentrate on Advanced Transfiguration, which would be, for the first hour and a half, lecture notes-then afterward normal class Transfiguration (three essays due today, she thought happily).  
  
When she entered the assumed-empty Common Room, she did not expect Harry to be sitting on the couch, in what Hermione could only assume was waiting for her.  
  
"Harry?" she said, confused. "What are you doing here?" Somehow, anger with him from the night before seemed to evaporate with the happy thoughts of not having to spend another night in Gryffindor Tower's "pleasure paradise."  
  
"I just wanted to apologize for last night," Harry blurted out quickly. "That was mean of me, you know, I'm sure you're uncomfortable with me talking about Cho and all-"  
  
"No, Harry, that's not it," Hermione lied, waving her hand absentmindedly at him. "It just made me think...well, when is my turn? I mean, Ron and Luna, and Ginny and Dean...you and Cho...even Neville has a girlfriend. When all your friends have someone, it makes you think, well, why don't you? What's so wrong about you?" She spoke rather quietly, though these were thoughts she was prodding and pondering for quite a while last night, among other nights when sleep would not come.  
  
"Oh," Harry said, stunned, not knowing quite what to say. He ran a hand through his hair. Hermione noticed he did this more lately.  
  
"Nevermind, I'm going to be late," she said. "But I'm not bothered by you talking about Cho..." Liar! She bit her lip. If Harry didn't think he could talk to me about Cho, then who could he talk to? He certainly takes to me for love advice...and I would miss those chats horribly, even if it were about another girl.... "...Actually, I'd rather have you talk to me rather than...Ron, who is very much denser than lead in the Girl Department. And I'm very glad to hear about someone who had made your life...in light of all that has happened...more enjoyable. How could I be so mean and angry about that?"  
  
"I suppose you're right," Harry said slowly. "It just seemed lately, you get all huffy about the little things."  
  
"I'm under pressure," stated Hermione tersely. "A lot of work, you know. Like yourself."  
  
He grinned. "Anyway, ready to kip a quick breakfast?"  
  
"No, I've got to run, Harry," Hermione said, looking at the clock. "Transfiguration lecture without food, I guess."  
  
"Good luck," called Harry, as Hermione leapt into and out of the portrait. She waved absentmindedly back.  
  
If you only knew, Harry.  
  
* * *  
  
One week away from the Christmas Ball and Hermione was getting edgy. No one had asked her yet, and she'd not bother to look for a dress. She knew it was poor form for the Head Girl not to attend when, under direction of herself and Harry, the Ball had been planned. But McGonagall was just so adamant about couples. And about her coming. But Hermione could not be a couple by herself.  
  
No one else noticed this problem. Ginny, who might have taken a little clue, only spoke to Hermione when she rushed into the Common Room with the bag in hand, a token of the dress she'd ordered. Her eyes were glittering as she beckoned Hermione upstairs and watch as Ginny, with bountiful shapes and curves, slid into a dress that accentuated much and left nothing to be imagined. It was painful for Hermione to say she looked very good, because Hermione, though telling the truth, knew that 1) she could never look that good and 2) would never see her at the Ball anyway.  
  
When she asked what dress Hermione herself had picked, she told Ginny that it was a surprise. Surely, that was not a lie; it would be a surprise to find a dress and a date in one week's time. Ron and Harry didn't mention anything, what with Ron being tied down with Luna and Harry knowing better to say anything. But even just one boy would be nice.  
  
Hermione would get to see the final decorations, as she had to put them up, but she couldn't, at this point, enjoy them. It was depressing. Especially when Harry suggested magical snow to fall from the ceiling.  
  
Hermione, who at that point, had been working on an essay (but drifting far out in space) growled with frustration. Even Neville was going to this! It seemed she'd be the only seventh year to not attend...Hermione didn't know whether to cry or kick something.  
  
She stood suddenly, from her oaken desk (packed with books from Year One to Year Seven), knocked her chair down (it clattered loudly in her private Head Girl room) and threw her quill. She couldn't concentrate anyway-she was supposed to be describing the effects of Human Transfiguration into each class of creature, and there were about forty of them. Hermione plowed easily through the first twenty seven but it was getting extremely tedious. She needed a break.  
  
Hermione walked over to her four poster bed (quite large, actually) and heaved a sigh. The maroon hangings were of no comfort now, as she slid them closed. She fell back onto the maroon comforter and white sheets, her head coming in contact with the feather pillow. Could she just sleep away the next week? Funny, just last week I was pleased to be cut off from the rest of the world, she thought, but if I'm near no one, how are they supposed to ask me to this Ball? Ugh! I wish I could choose whether or not to attend!  
  
Hermione knew why this was, of course. Two days ago, McGonagall called Hermione down to her desk and gave her this brief, but very heavy, message:  
  
"I expect you to show with your partner, Miss Granger-don't worry," she had said, mistaking her mask of horror as one of anxiety, "your decorations will certainly be splendid."  
  
Sure, Hermione thought angrily. They'd be great to experience it with someone nice and wonderful-like Harry!  
  
If only there wasn't Cho.  
  
Hermione sat up in bed, and pulled the curtains open again. The sunlight streaming in from her angular window seemed to stiffen her resolve. She'd have to find someone...and soon...and she can't be hiding in this bedroom, waiting for it to happen.  
  
Who could she go with? Certainly, someone from her year...she'd hate to have to divulge lower. But she might have to, in this case. What rotten, horrible luck.  
  
It wasn't as if Hermione wasn't pretty. She had curly hair that had lessened in bushiness over the last year. She had a clear complexion. Hermione could get away with virtually no makeup. She wasn't big busted, but there was enough to fill her bra, which is more than she could say for some girls her age. She wasn't fat; in fact, Hermione considered herself well toned. Hermione never had a problem with appearances or self confidence. What did Ginny and Parvati have that she didn't?  
  
There was a knock on the door. "Come in!" she said sharply.  
  
"Hey, Hermione," said Ron, peeking his red hair inside the door. He grinned at her. "Got some good news."  
  
"What?" Hermione said, standing. Curious more than anything. Just don't say, "I'm gonna be a daddy!" Hermione pleaded silently.  
  
"Fred and George are coming to the Ball," he announced happily. "They said, 'We need a break off, mate,' and I answered, 'Well, there's a Christmas Ball coming up soon.' Then they asked McGonagall if they could attend for good times' sake, and McGonagall said yes!"  
  
"That's great, Ron," said Hermione, trying to be happy.  
  
"The thing is," he had slipped himself completely in the door now, "that George doesn't have a date."  
  
"Oh," she said softly. Geez, Ron, a pity date? Well, it's better than nothing....  
  
"Yeah, Fred's with Angelina now, did'ja hear?" Hermione shook her head. "Anyway, George said that he needed a date, if I knew anyone who was free, and I told him that Hermione didn't have one yet, and he said, 'Ask her if she'd go with me,' so: will you go?"  
  
Hermione was slightly in awe; she'd never heard Ron talk that fast before.  
  
"Sure, Ron. Tell George I'd be glad to...at least...have a date," she said, forcing her lips to upturn. "Tell him that was sweet."  
  
"No problem," he said. "Oh, and Ginny said she hasn't seen your dress, have you got one?"  
  
"Yes," she replied, a little testily. "I was quite prepared, Ronald Weasley." Liar!  
  
"Oh, then Ginny wants to talk to you after this. You might want to bring your dress."  
  
"She knew I'd said yes?" Hermione said disdainfully. Ginny could be psychic for all that's worth it. But that didn't change the fact that she didn't have a dress.  
  
"Guess so. Talk to you in a bit, Hermione," Ron finished, and stepped out of the room, closing the door.  
  
Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands. Now I really need to find a dress, and Ginny's the only one that can help... With that thought, Hermione rushed down the hallway and past her own portrait, into the Gryffindor Common Room. Closing it behind her, she ran up the stairs to find Ginny.  
  
When she entered the familiar sixth year Gryffindor girls' dormitory, she was shocked to find Ginny with Luna...and Cho.  
  
"Hey, Hermione!" Ginny said happily. "Where's your dress?"  
  
Hermione blinked. Why is Cho here? she thought angrily. "Um, I lied, Ginny. I don't have one." She bit her lip, still focused on why, a Monday night, was Cho here? Didn't she have a job or was she making that up?  
  
Cho flipped her long hair back behind her shoulder. "Well, I think then we've got to find a suitable dress...though she didn't leave us bountiful amounts of time to do so..."  
  
Hermione felt her face reddening. I know what you are insinuating, you horrible cheat, Hermione thought, her face flushing magenta from embarrassment and anger.  
  
"Aw, come on, Hermione," Ginny said encouragingly. "I've got the latest three Witch Weekly's, they carry their dresses back three versions-we'll find you one for sure." Ginny then spread the magazines out on the bed and the four girls spent the next hour helping Hermione find that one, perfect dress.  
  
* * *  
  
It was Ginny who finally found "it," as they were calling the dress. It was a off-the-shoulders dress (robe, rather; Hermione kind of liked calling it a "dress," maybe it was the old Muggle in her), that hung down, down, down...the model's legs look miles long. Hermione was sure that Ginny was out. Of. Her. Mind.  
  
"This is way to expensive," Hermione said painfully, looking at a price starting at 150 Galleons.  
  
"It's nothing compared to wowing the crowd, Hermione!" Ginny said enthusiastically, as Luna and Cho leaned over and glanced at where Ginny's perfectly manicured finger was pointing. "With a draped gabardine to match the colour of the dress, and your hair up-not too up," she added, squinting with one eye and imagining Hermione in the hairstyle only in her mind, "the right earrings, some makeup...you'll be a Princess, Hermione!"  
  
"Do you think that that will fit her?" said Cho coolly. "It looks a little...small...."  
  
"No, Hermione can't be any bigger than a size two?" Luna replied softly.  
  
"One," Hermione said quietly. "That's what my jeans tell me, anyway."  
  
"See?" said Ginny triumphantly. "It's the dress! Now we just have to rush order it..." Ginny flipped to the back, ripped out the form, and got a quill so quickly, Hermione thought she summoned it.  
  
"Name, Hermione Granger. Address? Head Girls' Gryffindor Room, Hogwarts School.... Product? Fab-u-louso dress...."  
  
Luna giggled appreciatively, while Hermione smiled weakly. With no time passed, the dress order form was out in the mail. Ginny assured her that the billing would come later, no problem, and the dress would be here in three days, guaranteed.  
  
"I ordered a size one, like you said," Ginny announced, sucking on the end of her quill. "But if it doesn't fit right, we've got only one more try to fix it-I wouldn't dare take magic to a dress like this..."  
  
Hermione turned to Luna. "What will your dress look like?" she asked curiously.  
  
"It's so grand," Luna replied, her eyes sparkling. "It's off the shoulders, with two long stripes of cloth, and it billows." She seemed breathless.  
  
"Ah," Hermione said, knowing all to well that asking even a perfectly simple question as that would ensure a very odd answer indeed. Cho snorted on Hermione's left.  
  
"Harry will love my dress," she said pompously. Hermione frowned. Now Cho can't be like this normally-she usually seems sedate. Is she that jealous of me? What happened to the waterworks girl of the past? The one who was so sure she was in love with Cedric and couldn't help herself to bring him up on Harry's and her dates. Back then when I didn't care, except that Harry was acting gentlemanly. Nowadays....  
  
"Anyway," Hermione said, after the long, awkward silence, "I have an essay that needs doing, so if you'll excuse me..."  
  
Ginny waved as Hermione stood. "Bye then," she said, moving so Hermione could get out the door. "I can't wait until the Ball! I'm so glad you found a date-I'm sorry I didn't realize that you were without one."  
  
Hermione smiled very, very weakly. "Well, I'm going with George, so I can go now...to the Ball, I mean."  
  
She grinned. "Fred and George back, I can't wait! Man, since fifth year- I've missed those guys around here." Ginny had a very mischievous look in her eyes.  
  
Hermione was afraid to know why.  
  
* * *  
  
Without realizing it, the day of the Ball had come. Despite the unwavering importance of O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, classes for fifth years and above were cut short, and most of the teachers allowed for some fun-well, except Snape, who, as always, promised rained when they wanted sun.  
  
When Hermione, unknowingly, walked out of Charms that afternoon, Ginny pounced on her, attacking like a rabid animal. "Let's go!" she hissed, and lead-dragged, really-Hermione back to the Common Room and up to the sixth year dorm where Hermione's dress lay.  
  
"Bath!" she ordered, and spun Hermione into the bathroom. An hour for "pre- priming," she was assured. How long it took for Ginny to get ready, Hermione never knew. Much pain was accompanied with this reverie. Quite frankly, Hermione was wishing she were back in class.  
  
Determined for Hermione to have a "fresh" look, Ginny attacked her with feminine equipment: hot wax, green globs, relaxants, cucumbers, nail polish, the works.... Tears (the crying kind) and tears (the ripping sort) ensued, as Ginny took to Hermione's legs, eyebrows...plunged her face in cold cream and stuck vegetables in her eyes...scratched and scraped at Hermione's nails, buffed them and polished them ("Clear," Hermione ordered, but hardly could see what was going on). She wondered why Ginny wasn't primping herself when, curtly and irritably (Hermione might have scratched and screamed a little too loud with the waxing), she declared this done a day before. Short of taping Hermione's mouth shut, she forbade her to speak until the preliminaries are done, Hermione captive in a terry cloth robe in the bathroom.  
  
Hermione emerged an hour later, her skin was soft and clean, her nails well done, her legs smooth, her eyebrows arched, and her curly hair tame. She had to admit, she was impressed at Ginny's intuitiveness. When asked, Ginny eyed her with a gleam in her eye not unlike the one Weasleys' occasionally had, and said, "I've been waiting to do this to you for three years, Hermione. I love making people pretty." A juvenile comment, but Hermione knew better to inquire any further when Ginny was, clearly, on a mission.  
  
Ginny spun poor Hermione into the Common Room where her hair and face was attacked once more. Slipping the undergarments on, including the slip, Ginny was over at the vanity mirror (vein-ity mirrors, Hermione thought dryly), books open and odd instruments pulled out, in order, according to what Ginny thought she ought to use. It scared Hermione, especially, when she was called over and was asked to sit in The Chair.  
  
Eyes squinted shut, Hermione felt the oddest feeling on her head, as brushes, wand spells and those...pieces of equipment...played with her mane of hair. When Hermione opened one eye wearily, she was absolutely shocked at what she saw.  
  
It was twisted up at the top of her head, in a loose, swirling band, but there were pieces of hair falling softly everywhere, the tendrils curling softly around her face. Her bangs were side swept, shorter, a little, but much more complimentary than before.  
  
"It looks great!" Hermione exclaimed, almost uncharacteristically, as she ran to the mirror. She heard Ginny cackling softly in the background.  
  
"Now...for the makeup!" she cried, swinging The Chair around. Boxes were open everywhere. Powder, blush, lipstick all flew at her face in record time. Foundation, to smooth out the skin tone...blush, to make Hermione seem more adult...light pink eyeshadow, to match the dress...powder to ward off shine...pale pink gloss to make her lips irresistible....  
  
When Hermione was finished, she never saw herself more adult. Ginny's cackling grew steadily louder. It wouldn't have shocked Hermione to hear her scream, "It's alive!"  
  
"Now, go get dressed," Ginny ordered, pointing to the floating dress in the corner, where the spells cast on it warded off wrinkles. "And let me to myself."  
  
Hermione moved quickly to the corner and slipped the dress over her head, where she had found three days before to fit perfectly. Now, completed, Hermione did look like a Princess. She was about to pick up gabardine to have hang around her arms and around her back when she head, "Accio Dress!" from Ginny.  
  
When she turned around, bewildered, she saw that Ginny not only had her dress on (light blue with sparkles that hung very low and very long), but that she also had makeup and hair done as well (her hair was down, except for the edges, which were really curly and her makeup was very light).  
  
"Gin, how do you do it?" Hermione asked in awe.  
  
"I, Hermione, am a girl," she replied disdainfully. "I know the secrets...."  
  
She's crazy, Hermione thought, as Ginny dragged her downstairs.  
  
It was time to meet everyone. 


	6. Purple

Title: Winds of Change  
  
Author: Kary Starr  
  
Ship: Harry/Hermione  
  
Rating: PG-13/R  
  
Summary: After the Great War, things have changed. Hermione learns to deal with what life is really about, and how to deal it-realizing that not everything can be handled on her own.  
  
Genre: Angst, Romance, Humour  
  
Story Canon: 1-5  
  
AN: The terrors of being a teenager. I'm a senior in high school, as I have already mentioned, but you know what else makes it even better? Searching for job. I have applied to so many places, I think my social security number will fly out my nose. Randomly. In the middle of the store, even. I have applied to over 10 places in the last week. And still have yet to find a job. It's driving me nuts, because it's not like I'm stupid or anything. Urgh. People suck.  
  
But you know who doesn't suck? David Wenham, who I like to describe as "the Young Alan Rickman" from Lord of the Rings. Doesn't he look just a little like Hans Fucking Gruber from Die Hard? I mean, come on, longer hair, what's the difference? He looks like Alan Rickman. PS: To those crazied fans out there, there is a new picture of him as HIMSELF on DarkMark.Org in the movie files section, under "Promotional." Cool eh?  
  
And, as always, have a great time reading this. Please, if there are any mistakes, email me, because it has been a while since I have looked at this.  
  
Love you. Read and review.  
  
Peace.  
  
* * *  
  
Chapter Six: Purple  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione's teeth chattered as she descended the stairs, she was so nervous. "G-Ginny, I look good, don't I?"  
  
"You look fabulous, darling," she replied, grinning at her. "You can't have cold feet, can you?" The voices downstairs in the Common Room were rather loud. She could hear Ron's voice among the rest of them, and the two other Weasleys', George and Fred. Her stomach lunged. Cho's thin, high laugh was heard too.  
  
"N-no, Gin, I'm just a little...not used to having so much make-up on," she replied. They entered the Common Room, which was decorated for Christmas in ivy and berries up and down the staircase, with tinsel everywhere, and a tree in the corner.  
  
"Hey, Ginny, Hermione!" Ron called out, Luna waving at her too. Hermione smiled anxiously.  
  
Luna and Ron were standing there, looking quite warm together, Ron in dark red robes and Luna in...well...an interesting outfit. It was an off-the- shoulders dressrobe, but it had priest-like heavy cloth draped down the front with symbols on it, and it did indeed bellow; Hermione quite sure there were at least seven layers of netting under it.  
  
"Hi, Ron. Luna," Ginny and Hermione chimed. Dean ran up to Ginny, gave her a kiss ("I've got lipstick on, you idiot. Wait until everyone sees me first!"). Hermione felt very alone, and she stood there awkwardly, feeling quite left out.  
  
"Hi, Hermione," a deep voice said behind her. Hermione turned her head, and saw Harry, looking rather guilty. "You look great."  
  
"What, you don't think I can turn out pretty?" Hermione answered, grinning. Harry was wearing robes of deep green, high collared, and belled sleeves. "You look handsome yourself." And he did, with his hair combed and his contacts in, which he rarely wore, because he only had one pair he'd gotten for himself at the end of fifth year's summer.  
  
"Hello, Hermione," a rather cheery Cho said, wrapping her arms around Harry's own arm, as she slithered to his side. "My, that dress did fit you...er, rather well." Her own, however, was a Chinese silk dress that had a high collar but a low, very low cut out in the middle, hugging her more adult curves.  
  
"So it would seem," Hermione replied, stiffening. Once again, that horrible feeling of loss settled into her stomach, and she forced herself to smile at them. Forget it. He's better off with Cho anyway.  
  
The bountiful Weasley twins hopped over to them, grinning madly. Angelina looked gorgeous in her long, red dress, and braids pulled into a curly bun atop her head. "Hey," she said, smiling at Hermione. Hermione did not know her that well, just that she and Fred had been dating throughout most of their sixth and seventh year, and beyond, apparently. The twins wore matching robes of dark blue, designed similarly to Harry's, and their hair was cut short and spiked. They looked happy, anyway.  
  
"Hermione!" George said, giving her a hug and a peck on the cheek. "Haven't seen you in a while. Not since you waved that Prefect badge at us along with your finger, telling us to not use poor, innocent first years as our testers."  
  
"And I'm sure you are glad you didn't continue doing such a thing," Hermione replied, smiling warmly at him.  
  
"Mum asks after you four everyday, honestly, the woman is at our store more than we are!" Fred chimed in, pointing to Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny. "And Mum says you come home pregnant, best not to come home at all."  
  
Ginny stuck out her tongue at Fred and Dean blushed.  
  
"She's just, oh so happy we're doing well at something she forbade us to do not even two years ago," George added. "We're raking in the Galleons, 'spect we might have to move abroad."  
  
"To Hogsmeade, perhaps. That's what Lee's thinking, anyway," said Fred, almost wearing out his cheek muscles from grinning so hard.  
  
"Oh, you guys, that would be great!" said Ginny, putting her hand to her mouth and squealing. "One of you would be here, helping to cause havoc!"  
  
"Well, I hear you didn't so such a bad job last year, Gin," Fred replied, winking at her. "What was the 'Dungbomb Incident From Hell' I heard Ron mumbling about last year? Sounds like something we'd do."  
  
"I didn't get caught either," Ginny said with pride. Ron laughed.  
  
"Shall we go?" Luna asked, slipping her hand inside Ron's.  
  
Fred eyed them. "Ickle Ronnie-kins have a girlfriend now?"  
  
"Saves us a sigh of relief," George augmented. Luna only smiled dreamily.  
  
"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Ginny added, leading Dean to the entrance way. Luna and Ron followed, with Fred and Angelina, and Harry and Cho. George was left alone with Hermione.  
  
"Ready to go?" George said, extending his elbow. Hermione grinned at him.  
  
"Of course, Mr. Weasley," she replied, slipping her hand around. They stepped out of the Gryffindor Common Room, the door sweeping shut behind them gracefully.  
  
* * *  
  
"Oh, these decorations are so pretty," Hermione heard as she walked into the Great Hall. She felt like Cinderella, knowing that she had only four hours before the magic wore away and she'd be left as that plain girl in Gryffindor again.  
  
No one seemed to recognize her, but that didn't surprise her; after all, at the Yule Ball in their fourth year, people kept asking who she was. It annoyed her so much, and again, the pang of annoyance tapped her nerves again.  
  
George was very friendly and very gentlemanly the way there, and to Hermione, it felt a little like old times. She saw various couples that she wanted to talk to, and George and Fred went to chat with the teachers, so everyone eventually split up. Well, everyone except for the three couples that seemed glued to each other.  
  
Hermione wandered around, talking to Neville and Susan, then to Padma Patil, and Hannah Abbott. However, it only took her an half and hour to make her rounds, so she went to the drinks and took a sip of some of the butterbeer served there. What she really wanted to do was dance.  
  
Harry met her up at the drinks. "Hey," he said, getting two glasses. "Having fun? Doesn't it look great? I've heard so many nice things about the decorations...especially the entrance," he added, pouring.  
  
"Oh, really?" Hermione replied. "I've heard only tidbits, from people I've talked to. You know, Padma, and Hannah. And Neville."  
  
"Cho says it looks really great," said Harry, smiling. Then it faded a little. "I wish she'd stop complaining about work, though."  
  
"Oh, well, you know," Hermione answered, shrugging. "Change the subject. You two seem to have an endless font of topics to discuss, pick one."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Tried it. Twice. Keeps coming back to this one guy, some guy who makes this evil eye at her. Anyway, I'll catch you up later?"  
  
"Make sure you dance with her," Hermione advised.  
  
"Why, you think she'll have a line-up?" She didn't answer right away.  
  
"Her dress does drop a little low, Harry. She's probably got a gaggle of boys around her."  
  
He flushed. "I didn't think it was that low."  
  
"You wouldn't, Harry," she replied, smiling. "You are male after all."  
  
"Ha, ha," Harry said dryly. "You have a line-up? A queue of boys after you yet? Because you do look very stunning." His face flushed a little deeper.  
  
"The day I have boys after me is the day I strike gold," said Hermione without emotion. "No boys after little old me, sadly."  
  
"Just wait. And save a dance for me, will you?" he said, pulling out the drinks and walking away.  
  
Hermione, a little stunned, stood there for a bit. George tapped her arm suddenly.  
  
"Yeah?" she replied, not looking at him.  
  
"Set the stupid drink down and come over here," he said, now tugging on her arm. She sat the drink down and George whirled her out onto the dance floor. "Ordered this song special," he added, putting her hands into his. Hermione cocked her head sideways.  
  
"What do you mean by that, George Weasley?"  
  
"Ah, nothing too important," he said, stepping away. Then the beat picked up. It was the Electric Slide, for goodness' sakes.  
  
"George, it's that...Muggle...thing," she ended lamely, as he showed her how to move.  
  
"Isn't it great? Found it in Dad's old records. I think he only saved it for the 'electric' part," he said, as the music started. Left one-two- three clap, right one-two-three clap, step forward, step back, tap, tap, tap, and to the side, repeat.  
  
The only people who even had the remotest idea of what was going on was the Muggle borns, and even then, as they tried to get their dance partners onto the floor, it wasn't working.  
  
George was laughing so hard tears were running down his face. "I love it, those poor, uncoordinated people," he bawled, clapping.  
  
Hermione had gotten the steps down, after traveling to America for a summer when she was much, much younger, and having to experience the evil that was country-line dancing. "Curious, how did you figure out the steps?"  
  
"Some old bloke that works in the shop had a son living in the States, you know," he replied, stepping to the right. "When I showed him the record, thought the man was going to die from laughing." He paused. "Really wouldn't be such a bad way to go."  
  
Hermione frowned. "George, that isn't nice."  
  
"Well?" he retorted, as the song ended. His tears were subsiding, and Fred, across the room, flashing him a thumbs up. "That was fun, right?"  
  
"You're insane," Hermione replied, throwing her arms up, as a slow song came on. Not to keen on being left on the dance floor, Hermione wound her way around the advancing couples.  
  
Sigh.  
  
Suddenly, there was a resounding slap emitted from the other side of the room. Everyone turned to see Cho walk away, while Harry, obviously bewildered, sat there, red creeping into his cheeks, before he escaped himself. He and Cho were standing against the wall, but now neither of them were in the room.  
  
"Oi," George said, coming up from behind her. "That didn't look good."  
  
"No, it didn't," Hermione replied. Her heart leapt for joy before returning abysmally down to earth. A spat, nothing more. They would be done, and get back together. Like always.  
  
Sigh.  
  
"Suppose someone should check on Harry," Hermione said dully. Playing the Peace-maker would be a lot more fun if she didn't like Harry so much. She, not for the first time, or last, wished she didn't encourage Harry and Cho in his fifth year. Hermione was so stupid then....  
  
She walked out of the Great Hall into the Entrance Corridor and saw Harry sitting on the steps. Hermione did not know where Cho went, or cared, but she walked over and sat down next to him.  
  
"'Spect you saw that," Harry mumbled, his head in his hands, leaning on his knees.  
  
Hermione shrugged, though he couldn't see. "I think everyone did, Harry."  
  
He let out a long, trapped sigh. "Well, she's gone. Left."  
  
"Wha-?" Hermione said, confused. "Gone?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry thickly. "Walked right out that door-" He pointed out the Entrance Hall's vast oak doors. "-and didn't look back. She rightly angry with me all right."  
  
Hermione was silent for a few minutes. "Do you want to talk about it?" she said quietly, putting her hand on his knee friendly-like.  
  
Harry lifted his head and rubbed his eyes, muttering swear words under his breath. "God, all I said was, 'Did you like this guy or something?'"  
  
"Oh, Harry," said Hermione tentatively, "you never ask a girl that."  
  
He looked at her disdainfully. "Thanks for the heads up, Hermione."  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled. "Anyway, why did you say that?"  
  
"Because," Harry huffed, "Cho wouldn't shut up about him. I tried to follow your advice, and change the subject and all, but she continued, all angry-like, because I wanted to change the conversation. 'You never want to talk about what I want to talk about.' God, she does whine all lot, though I'd take that any day to the Human Hosepipe she was two years ago."  
  
Hermione remained silent. Was this truly the end? She'd never heard Harry talk about Cho this way before.  
  
"So, I asked her, 'What do you have on this guy? Do you like him or something?' She gets all offended, because it's okay for her to berate and bother me about girls here, but I can't do the same thing, and I told her that-"  
  
She sucked in her breath. Oi, Harry...  
  
"-yeah, stupid comment, I know. That's when she whacked me one across the face," said Harry, pointing to his left cheek, which was imprinted with a pink hand. "Then she muttered all low, 'It's over.' No, more like a hiss. And, as you saw, she stormed out, and I got left there. Lucky the pain stunned me a bit, because it didn't come to me that I was embarrassed until I left the Great Hall." He paused. "I can't believe it either. It's right before Christmas. Now I'm stuck all by myself."  
  
"I'm...I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. "It really is horrible to be alone on Christmas."  
  
He looked up at her, his hair framing his soft face. "I-I didn't realize...."  
  
"Nevermind," she said quietly, looking down, removing her hand from his knee and cupping her hands in her lap. "But, you know, if you're all right and all-I mean, no, of course you're not, but I eyed a ring on her hand, thought she might've used that-" Hermione babbled. "Anyway-oh, I'm just sorry about what happened, Harry."  
  
"S'okay," Harry replied dully. "Suppose I can get on all right without her. I do miss her, even now, though."  
  
As he said that, Hermione imagined a brick wall piling slowly higher between her and Harry on the staircase, spelling out the words, "Rebound: Do Not Enter." She stood.  
  
"Well, might as well enjoy the rest of your time," she said, offering her hand to him. Hermione smiled weakly.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, taking her hand. "You still owe me a dance."  
  
"I suppose I do." Hermione followed Harry back into the dance floor, where a slow song was in session. She hesitated awkwardly.  
  
The song ended quickly, however, and a waltz started. "Come on, Harry," she said, grinning, tugging on his sleeve. "Put Cho out of your mind for an hour, at most. Have some fun with your friends...then think about it in the morning. Tomorrow's Saturday," she added. "You can sleep away the morning, lounge around, and be glad that it's the holidays."  
  
He pondered her statement for a moment. "You're right, Hermione. What would I do without you?"  
  
"Nothing," she replied, leading him onto the dance floor. Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and one in his hand. "You know how to waltz, right?"  
  
"Yeah," he said slowly. "I think." Harry put an arm around her small waist and thought for a moment, concentrating on the beat. "Three moves, right?"  
  
Hermione nodded, and started to lead him, until he remembered, and then he took over. She felt like she was in heaven...the room started to melt away, and Harry was talking happily in the background, about anything but Cho, determined to have a good time. She responded occasionally with "Yes," and "Uh huh." She was oddly aware of where her body was, and how Harry pulled her closer to him as they danced and talked; it was almost an out-of-body experience.  
  
Cut it out, how insensitive are you to enjoy this when he just broke up with his girlfriend?  
  
Too bad, she replied to the rational side of herself, and inwardly grinned a bit more.  
  
When the song ended, Hermione sensed that Harry was almost reluctant to pull away, and they met up with the other seven of their party. Luna and Ron were drinking butterbeer with Ginny and Dean, while Fred, George and Angelina were chatting easily with McGonagall, who, for the first time in nearly three years, finally looked happy and looked like she was enjoying herself.  
  
They pulled two seats over to the Luna-Ron table and joined in on the conversation. Alternating between dancing (mostly Ginny and Dean; Luna and Ron felt much too awkward on the dance floor, and Hermione did not get asked again to dance by Harry, which put her in an unhappy disposition), eating and talking, the evening passed quickly.  
  
At quarter to twelve, people started to leave, some having to be slumped out. Finally it was their group left; Fred, George and Angelina said a hearty good-bye to everyone, and left the Great Hall to exit Hogwarts (they would walk to the end of the street and Disapparate home). Ginny and Dean bid their goodnights, and Luna and Ron finally gave their final farewells. It was finally Harry and Hermione left in the room alone, decorations falling down pointedly.  
  
"We probably should get this cleaned up, huh?" Hermione remarked, surveying the mess.  
  
"Yeah..." replied Harry, not keen on cleaning. He stifled a yawn. Hermione gave him a slightly disapproving look and Summoned some work clothes from her room, Harry following suit, and went into the bathroom to change. When she emerged from her beautiful dress into a shirt and leggings, Hermione left very much like her carriage turned into a pumpkin and white mice were scurrying about her.  
  
She pulled out her wand and started moving things around. She had set it all up, of course, but that was the easy part. Hermione went about vanishing things, when Harry returned to the Great Hall.  
  
"Hey, don't you be having all the fun without me," he said, brandishing his wand.  
  
Hermione looked up. "Oh, right, I'm having a baleful of fun," she replied sarcastically.  
  
They worked for a straight hour, not talking much, but Hermione enjoyed the company. When the Great Hall looked like itself again, they sat at a corner, and Hermione produced two butterbeers she'd saved from the dance.  
  
"Here," she said, holding out the cold bottle.  
  
Harry wiped his brow. "What?" he asked, and she shook the bottle before him. "Oh, thanks," said Harry, taking the bottle and popping it open, swigging heavily. "I needed that."  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "It's nearly two in the morning, Harry," she said. "And we still have the Entrance Hall to clean up. We should probably get started." But Harry had stood up and cantered off to the middle of the empty room.  
  
"Christmas is in four days," said Harry thickly, walking around the middle, almost pacing. "Our Hogsmeade trip is on Sunday-" Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. How could she have forgotten that? Last minute shopping-trip. She gazed up at him. He'd stopped talking and was looking intently at her. "What are you going to do at Hogsmeade?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Shop a bit. I don't have that much money with me; Christmas with you two nearly wiped me clean," she replied, thinking of the Chudley Cannon Quidditch robes for Ron and the very, very expensive Gryffindor Lion brooch (for his good cloak) she'd gotten for Harry, with gold on the outside and ruby stones for eyes. "I thought I'd pick up a drink or two with everyone in The Three Broomsticks, though, you know, around lunchtime."  
  
"Oh," said Harry, pondering a moment. Hermione took a drink from her bottle and set it down, pulling out her wand and getting ready to finish the job-she was feeling a bit drowsy, and if she did not continue, she would probably fall asleep.  
  
"Come on, Harry-just a bit more Vanishing, then we're done," said Hermione cheerily, and Harry walked over to her, more awake than he'd been all night. Quite frankly, Hermione thought he was disturbed by something, though she didn't inquire after what. He had a look of deep thought pasted onto his face.  
  
"Evanesco," she said, pointing to the ivy and berries. They flew away with a pop. Hermione heard Harry doing the same thing on the other side of the room, and within the next half an hour, they were done.  
  
Hermione stood back and looked at their handiwork. She'd used a Gleaming Charm on the railings, so they sparkled in the light from the chandelier above. A nearby clock chimed three in the morning.  
  
"We're finished!" Hermione said triumphantly. She looked at Harry, who was staring at her. She shook her head at him. "We can go to sleep now," added Hermione, thinking Harry might've missed a crucial point.  
  
"You forgot something," he said, pointing up. Mistletoe hung above her head, looking sly, as it hovered delicately above her curls.  
  
"How could I have missed that?" wondered Hermione, pointing her wand into the air. "No matter."  
  
Harry started to chuckle, though it was an odd sort of noise, much like a cough. She lowered her wand and looked at him. His head had turned away, and his shoulders were shaking.  
  
"Harry?" asked Hermione tentatively.  
  
"That's when we first kissed," Harry said, looking up, though distinctly not at her. "You know, in the Room of Requirement? Right before holidays, fifth year. She...what did you say?...cornered me."  
  
Hermione swallowed thickly. "I remember you saying something about that," she said quietly.  
  
He sighed loudly. "She was crying about Cedric. Always about Cedric. Sometimes I wondered why she kept bringing him up."  
  
Hermione was silent. Personally, if she were Cho then, no matter what she was feeling at the time, she thought it was rude to talk about another boy like that in front of Harry. But they all were a little confused in fifth year.  
  
"Nargles," he whispered, bringing his chin down at her. "That's what Luna said was in those. Nargles."  
  
She suppressed a snort. "Luna's a little...dotty sometimes, Harry."  
  
"I suppose," said Harry airily. However, without warning, Harry walked up to her, and gave her a peck on the cheek. It was quick and friendly, but Hermione still felt her face grow warm.  
  
"Harry?" she asked, surprised her voice did not break.  
  
Harry looked at her. "Thank you, Hermione. You're always there. You have that aura of calmness Ron is, quite frankly, lacking."  
  
Hermione tried to laugh a little, putting her hand to her cheek. "Well, you know, after what happened tonight, it was the only thing I could do. Did you expect me to leave you to wallow in your sorrows, to escape having a good times despite your spat?"  
  
"Er-no, not really," he replied, smiling.  
  
"Besides," said Hermione loftily. Oh, you're gonna regret saying this.... Shut up before- "This is a spat. You've gotten over much worse than this."  
  
He looked at her. "You're right, Hermione." Harry turned his attention at the staircase. "I hope that's how it's going to be, anyway. Um, wanna kip to bed?"  
  
"Yeah," said Hermione, almost sullenly. The elated feeling from the kiss on the cheek was slowly deflating as she realized it was nothing more than a thank you. How could she be so stupid to read into things like that?  
  
They walked up the stairs in silence, and broke away when Hermione moved to enter her own room. Harry waved her goodnight, and went along himself.  
  
It felt like Harry was waving her much, much more than goodnight.  
  
It felt like he was waving her goodbye. 


	7. Grey

Title: Winds of Change  
  
Author: Kary Starr  
  
Ship: Harry/Hermione  
  
Rating: PG-13/R  
  
Summary: After the Great War, things have changed. Hermione learns to deal with what life is really about, and how to deal it-realizing that not everything can be handled on her own.  
  
Genre: Angst, Romance, Humour  
  
Story Canon: 1-5  
  
AN: This is the fourth chapter I have posted, and my AN are running thin. I have not seen any good movies, but I can tell you what's going on in my life, as if you care. At all. Which you won't, as your eyes skim this and move on to the story. Don't blame you. I would too.  
  
So, anyway, in October, my friends are going to see Rocky Horror Picture Show. Cool, eh? And, for our Winter Formal, my three friends and I are going to dress up as Sgt. Pepper. I'm Paul, btw. Awesomely blue. And I need some new songs. I have "Bring Me To Life" stuck in my head. A travesty, I tell you.  
  
Well, nothing else to say.  
  
Love you.  
  
Read and review.  
  
* * *  
  
Chapter Seven: Gray  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione frowned as Ron made a particularly loud exclamation from across the table, where he and Harry had taken up playing Wizards' Chess; apparently, Ron had Harry's Queen cornered and had just killed her with his bishop. But that did not excuse his awful interruption, especially when Hermione had just settled down into her book, Practical Defenses for Protecting Yourself Against the Dark Arts Volume 23. Her homework was all caught up, both for her normal classes and Advanced classes (certainly Harry and Ron were far from this, but did they learn nothing over the last two years?).  
  
"Can't you two...be a little bit more...less enthusiastic?" Hermione scolded, marking her place in the book and moving over to their game. The Common Room was shockingly empty; a school-wide snowball fight was going on outside, and anyone interested went to participate. Harry and Ron were tired and, using the excuse of homework, retreated to the quiet of the Common Room for a rousing game of chess.  
  
Harry leaned back and frowned, making his move. "Sorry, Hermione," he said absentmindedly, watching his pawn be destroyed by a rampaging and unmerciful Queen.  
  
She tutted under her breath and leaned into the game, her hair falling in her face. "Why don't we get some fresh air?"  
  
"What, visit Hagrid?" said Ron, as he checkmated Harry. Harry sighed irritably, frustrated, and closed his eyes. "Or do you want to toboggan, I've not done that in like, seven years or whatever."  
  
Hermione smiled. "That sounds like fun. Do we have a toboggan board?"  
  
"No, but Gin does, saw her take it out last weekend. She's with Dean, you could kip it quick, Hermione," replied Ron.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Sure, Ron," she said, slapping her knees and standing, "I'll get it. You two should get your outside gear then."  
  
Harry stood. Hermione looked at him for a moment. "Unless you're not in the mood, Harry?" she asked tentatively.  
  
He turned his head at her. "No, that does sound like fun. I need something like this to take my mind off...things," sad Harry, casting his eyes away. He appeared to be, once again, in deep thought. Hermione chose to not prod him further and ran up the stairs into the sixth year girls' dorm, opened Ginny's wardrobe (many odd things fell out, including books, presents and two black robes). Tucked in the back was the red and yellow plastic board, and she pulled it out, pushing other things aside, and quickly putting everything back. She dragged it downstairs, grinning, and heard her name before she could be seen. Hermione's heart quickened, and she stopped.  
  
"What are you talking about Harry?" said Ron, confused.  
  
She could hear him sigh. "It's just that...after Cho left and Hermione was there with me all night, you know...I don't know anymore."  
  
"What don't you know?" replied Ron absentmindedly. She could hear him struggle with his cloak buttons. He always had trouble with them. "What're saying, you like Hermione?"  
  
Her heart felt like it stopped. What? she thought. He...  
  
"I don't know, Ron. Maybe. But then I think of Cho...and I'm all confused. God," he huffed. "If she weren't such a bitch, this would be easier."  
  
"Sounds like it's easy to me, mate," answered Ron. "Just think of who you like better."  
  
She peaked around the corner to see Harry throw him a nasty look. "Thanks for listening, Ron. You're so fucking thick sometimes."  
  
"Wha-at?" Ron said. "You want my opinion? You sound like you're still in love with Cho, but are flattered by Hermione's attention. That's it."  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes. You son of a bitch, Ron. What are you doing? He...he might like me...don't un-convince him of it! Flattered by my attention? Well, someone had to, you know, because other people were finding it much easier to ignore him and stick his tongue down a certain girl's throat!  
  
She cleared her throat and entered. Ron and Harry jumped, and she threw the toboggan at them. "I've got to go get my things," said Hermione testily. "Wait here, won't you?" But she didn't wait for a reply; instead she walked away and into her own room. She was angry with Ron, not because of him knocking down Harry's confusion, but because he was right. Harry really was in love with Cho, and Hermione has seen testament to this-it was foolish to think of anything different. But, that was only something to comfort her mind. Not her heart.  
  
She pulled on her cloak and her gloved, walking out holding a hat and scarf. Hermione forced a smile at him, though Harry was not looking at her. Ron,however, was oblivious and holding up the toboggan like a prize. "I can't wait to get on those hills," he remarked, grinning at the two of them.  
  
They grinned back, if just for him.  
  
* * *  
  
"Let's do doubles!" Ron yelled over the brusque wind, his cheeks now as red as his hair. Hermione laughed at him, and Harry smiled widely.  
  
"Fine!" Harry said, sitting on the plastic ride of death. He grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her on the toboggan, slumping up hard against him. She caught her breath and then Ron pushed them down the hill, which was very long and very steep.  
  
They found it on the south side of the castle, and had been sliding down it one at a time for the last hour. It had gotten very tedious before Ron's suggestion, which meant considerable more hazard for the people on the board, as the toboggan was meant for one, seated one, except if you squished two together very close.  
  
"Oh my God, we're gonna die!" Hermione screamed, holding his shoulder tightly as the countryside whizzed by.  
  
"You always say that!" shouted Harry in reply, swerving around a tree. He turned his head to her for a moment-a brief moment-  
  
Hermione was shrieking bloody murder as they became airborne off one of the jumps, flying through the air, as Harry was laughing almost maniacally. When they landed (not well), they flew off the board and rolled down the hill against each other until the end, the toboggan sliding almost shyly next to them. Harry lay flattening Hermione at the end of the hill, the both of them laughing so hard, their tears were freezing to their faces.  
  
"That was such a stupid idea," Hermione wheezed, "and I'm gonna kill Ron!"  
  
Harry stopped laughing, but was still grinning. "Aw, come on, that was fun, right?"  
  
"All the more fun when you're...not...crushing me!" she laughed, her hands against his chest.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. Leaning into her, he whispered, "Am I crushing you? Seriously? Because, to tell the truth, you're quite comfy in three thousand pounds of cloak..."  
  
"You're too heavy!" replied Hermione, trying to be stern, but felt herself quiver as she felt his warm breath on her face, disappearing in a blue mist. She pushed up on him, and he laughed, dropping back.  
  
He fell into the snow and looked up at the sky. "This really was a great way to keep my mind off of...my troubles," he said, blinking very calculatedly.  
  
Hermione leaned up. "Forget about it, Harry. It'll fix itself. What happened really wasn't your fault-"  
  
She paused as Harry sat up, looking at her intently, like he'd just awoken from deep sleep. "Look, Hermione, I just want to say, I appreciate everything you've done for me in the last year, but after last today, I realized something."  
  
"What?" replied Hermione timidly.  
  
Harry took a deep breath. "As much as I like Cho-and I do, I mean, I did-I think I fell in love with the external Cho, the Cho she presents to the world. But the real Cho-the Cho I've had to deal with these last couple of months-is not whom I'm in love with."  
  
Hermione drew in cold air quickly. "So what does that mean, Harry?"  
  
"I..." he paused, looking right at her. "I don't think Cho and I can be fixed. I think I...I'm done. I'm tired of being the puppet, constantly hounded and accused..."  
  
"But..." Hermione whispered, putting a hand to her mouth, "what about all those other times? You two looked so happy..." Shut up, you moron. He's just saying he's done with Cho! The moment of a lifetime!  
  
Not right now. No, not at all. Why should I be thinking of only myself? I should be thinking of Harry's feelings right now...he's practically declaring that he no longer cares for Cho...but I know it's wrong. I've seen him so happy...but with Cho....  
  
"Sometimes, she was all right," Harry was saying, "and others...and there have been a lot more others lately," he continued, carefully avoiding her gaze, "...other times she was just so controlling it was no longer any fun."  
  
Hermione felt her laughter die, when just before she was happy; it was deflating like a balloon. "Oh, Harry-is this why you were so quiet all this morning? And last night? Were you...sitting up all night thinking about this?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I guess."  
  
There was a very pregnant pause. Not knowing what else to do, Hermione stood up, and extended her hands. "We'd better get back to Ron. I'm...I'm really sorry about you and Cho...I didn't realize that you'd been like that for a while..."  
  
"No one did," he said, quietly, taking her hands and allowed himself to be heaved up. Harry fell into her, and grabbed her shoulders. "Because I didn't want to believe it myself. That would mean that Cho and I were never really meant to be, you know."  
  
She gazed up at him. "That's always the fear with a new or ending relationship, Harry," said Hermione softly, feeling as if it was almost knowingly. "Realizing that you and she might never be...well...together, forever."  
  
Harry snorted, a mist of blue air engulfing him. "Yeah, well, some of us realize this a little too late, huh, Hermione?" He pushed her back and started to walk up the hill angrily, stomping in the snow and sinking in a few inches.  
  
Hermione grabbed the toboggan and ran after him. "What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped, stepping in front of him.  
  
He rolled his eyes and gave her a haughty look. "Certainly, Hermione, I wouldn't think that you've missed anything, have you?"  
  
She blinked, and took a step back. "What?"  
  
Harry narrowed his eyes. "How nice of you to give me love advice about relationships when, last I heard, that's something you can't learn out of a book. Impressive when we were younger, I'm sure, and when we were all new to this it might have sounded quite convincing, but I don't appreciate you telling me that learning to get over a loss is something of a hazard in a relationship."  
  
Hermione felt tears sting her eyes. She tried to push them back, but it was no use. They started to fall down her face, warm and angry at the same time. After all I've done, after all I've told him-after he asked!-he is going to stand here and tell me that my advice is wrong, and unwarranted, because I'm inexperienced?! Well, Harry-  
  
She found herself saying her last bit aloud, "Well, Harry, I'm quite certain my inexperience is far from my own choosing!" With than, she threw the plastic board at his stomach and ran off, not looking back, and stormed back to the castle.  
  
"That...I can't believe...how could he..." she fumed, not making much sense, but unable to string an entire sentence together without having to censor herself. Hermione started to pull open the Entrance doors into the school when it was slammed shut for her. She turned around to see Harry, clearly out of breath.  
  
"When you fume, you must drown out everything," panted Harry. "Look, what I said was uncalled for. I know you're the only one who...seems to understand my situation, and you do give out really good advice, not because you're inexperienced, but because you see the situation better- you're unbiased. I'm really sorry for what I said. I'm just...tired...and a little stressed out...and snappish."  
  
Hermione looked at him closely. She felt the tears well up in her eyes again. "I'm...I'm sorry too," she cried. "I don't know everything, but there are a couple things that I wouldn't mind having done." Hermione paused. "I think I want to read now," she finished quietly, "if you'll just let me inside-"  
  
Ron came up behind Harry. "I sent him over. You two all right? You are having more rows than Hermione and I are."  
  
"Shocking," Hermione breathed sarcastically, opening her eyes a little more. "No, we're okay. You want to go back inside?"  
  
"Does that mean hot chocolate?" asked Ron anxiously.  
  
Hermione laughed in spite of herself, and wiped away the remaining tears. "Yeah, Ron, it means hot chocolate. You're a little addict, aren't you?"  
  
"I'm not surprised, so why are you? Better remember my oddities, because hell, I'll be with you two all week long, because Luna's at home, and I'm just a little lonely myself."  
  
"What about your home?" Harry said suddenly, turning to him. "Why aren't you home for Christmas holiday?"  
  
"My parents asked us-that is, me and Gin-to stay here, so they could have something of a second honeymoon." Ron made a very horrified and revolting face.  
  
"Oh, Ron, that was too much information," Hermione groaned, covering her eyes.  
  
"Well, I wasn't exactly pleased to hear it myself," argued Ron. "I thought it would be easier to bear the pain if I told someone."  
  
"You did not," replied Hermione. "You did that to be disgusting."  
  
Ron thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yep, that too." Hermione smacked his arm and then entered the Entrance Hall. As they entered, they saw-or, rather, caught-Ginny and Dean, walking across the Main Staircase, clutching one another in a deep kiss.  
  
"Ugh, Ginny," cried Ron, turning his head and sticking out his tongue. "Get a room-waiiit, no, just...separate...Harry, mate, help me out?"  
  
He shook his head. "Uh uh, no way, not going there. I could loose limbs going up against her," Harry added, pointing at a grinning Ginny.  
  
Ron turned his head pathetically to Hermione, who held out her hands in defeat, and back away into Harry. "I'm with Harry on this, you attack yourself, don't drag us into it."  
  
Ginny and Dean, however, got the point and wandered over to them. "Hey, Ron, Hermione...Harry," said Ginny, smiling at them. It faltered when she turned to Harry. "I heard about Cho, I'm really sorry."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Doesn't really matter now anyway," he said.  
  
She gave Harry a sympathetic, disbelieving look, and turned to Ron, who was carrying her toboggan. She seemed surprised to see it there. "Hey, that's mine. Why do you have it?"  
  
"'Cause we wanted to borrow it," said Ron matter-of-factly.  
  
Ginny sighed. She looked at Dean, giving him a withering glance, and then looked at Hermione, who was still subconsciously standing next to Harry. She gave Hermione a peculiar gaze, and then wrapped her hand around Dean's arm. "We were going to have some dinner, so we'll see you later, all right?"  
  
"Yeah," Ron replied absentmindedly, waving his hand at her. "I need to get warm. Let's go," he finished, turning to Hermione and Harry.  
  
"Right," said Hermione, walking up the staircase, Harry following.  
  
Ginny was still looking after them.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione walked up the stairs and into the Gryffindor Common Room. She'd just finished working in the library, and rubbed her eyes. It must be past midnight, she thought, yawning.  
  
She entered the main area and expected to see no one, but instead caught a shadow by the fire as she went to tell the portrait the password to enter her Head Girl's Room. Hermione turned and looked, studying the dancing wall, and realized that Harry was sitting with his elbows on his knees, gazing into the fire.  
  
"Harry?" whispered Hermione, walking over to him. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing evenly. Hermione guessed that he must've fallen asleep sitting there. "Oh, Harry," she said quietly, pulling a throw from the end of the couch and wrapping it over his shoulders. She squatted in front of him, pulling the blanket down more around his shoulders to stay on.  
  
Hermione gazed into his face, brushing back thick black bangs of hair gently. "Why do you have to be so unattainable?" she said to him tenderly, cupping her hand around his face. He leaned into it softly, smiling.  
  
"Hermione," he whispered. She jumped back, moving her hand like it was on fire, and tried to control her quickened breathing.  
  
Harry shifted in his seat and then opened her eyes. He saw Hermione looking rather upset.  
  
"Hermione, what's wrong?"  
  
"N-nothing," stammered Hermione, sitting back. "Sorry. Why were you here, anyway?" She twisted her hair in her fingers, drawing it down around her face. Oh my God...  
  
"I was just thinking," Harry replied, standing and stretching. Hermione followed suit, her eyes slightly bulging. Did he hear me? She looked away, shaking. "Hermione?" He placed a hand on her arm.  
  
"I'm fine Harry, I'm fine." Her voice was a little bit higher than she liked. God, get a hold of yourself...he was asleep.... He didn't hear....  
  
"Hey," he said, "I wanted to talk to you."  
  
"What?" She jumped. "Why?"  
  
Harry sighed, looking at her. "I've been thinking...a lot...about what's happened..."  
  
Hermione blinked.  
  
"And I...just wanted...to..." His eyes met hers. Hermione was trembling. "To ask you..." Harry's hand extended to her arm, tracing down from her elbow to her hand, and taking it in his own.  
  
"Harry?" she asked timidly. His other hand went to the small strand of hair that had fell in her face, and moved it around her ear. He pulled his hand down around her chin, and moved it close to his face. Hermione looked in his eyes, not daring to believe this-  
  
Harry glanced down at her lips and then back at in her eyes, back down to her lips. He leaned in even closer, and Hermione felt her eyes close...waiting...waiting....  
  
A dull, horrible, beep interrupted her moment.  
  
Hermione opened one eye, and looked at the wizarding clock. It was beeping six.  
  
The sky was dark gray and foreboding, introducing a new and dismal Sunday morning  
  
Why? Why did it have to end there? Some cruel injustice of the world is at hand here....  
  
Life is so totally unfair. 


End file.
